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SONGS 



OF THE 



SUSQUEHANNA 



BY 

ALFRED E. HOSTELLEY 



PHILADELPHIA 

SHERMAN & CO., PRINTERS 

I90I 






THE LIBRARY OF 

CONGRESS, 
Two Copies Rechived 

MAY. 6 190^ 

Cor^RIGHT ENTRY 

CLASS A-XXc. N» 
COPY B. _ 



Copyrighted, 1901, by ALFRED E. HOSTELLEY 



TO MY BROTHER 

W. H. HOSTELLEY 

THIS FIRST OFFSPRING OF MY IMAGINATION 
IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 



PROEM. 

LAY aside your cares awhile, 
Cares are only bubbles, man ; 
Prick them with a sunny smile, — 
Find your troubles — if you can. 

Life's beset with dangers, dire. 

Feeble spirits to alarm ; 
But to all who brave their fire, 

God will lend a guiding arm. 

Cupid is a daring fellow. 

What a mind has he to plan ; 
Steals our hearts when they are mellow, — 

Catch the culprit — if you can. 

Take this trembling, untrained flow'r, 
Sometime o'er it bend your brow ; 

Let it while away an hour, — 
One grows old — no matter how. 

— Alfred E. Hostelley. 



(V) 



CONTENTS, 



The Sculptor, 

The Diamond, 

The Wind the Maiden Woos 

Hope, . 

The Magnolia Wreath, . 

Aspirations, . 

A Rebuke, 

A Fair Communicant, 

Little Silver Tongue, 

Slumber Song, 

The Bird Lesson, . 

The Country Road, . 

The Bicycle Bell, . 

Song of All Things Fair, 

A Portrait, 

To a Wildwood Spring, 

Inscription for a Woodland Path 

The Hermit Thrush, . 

Red Men's Day, . 

Kindred Sympathy, . 

Two Days, 

A Little Sprig of Yarrow, 

Tansy, 

Love, the Ideal Poet, . 

Motherhood, 

The Story of the Years, 



PAGE 
II 

12 

25 
26 
27 
36 

37 
37 
39 
46 

. 47 
49 

. 49 
51 

. 57 
58 

. 59 
61 

. 64 
66 

. 67 
68 

. 69 
70 

. 71 

72 



(vii) 



VIU 



Contents 



To a Butterfly, 


. 


. 73 


The Maiden and the Thrush, 


, , 


76 


At Midnight Hour, 




. n 


The Present Enough, 


, , 


78 


Zelebel. ..... 


, 


79 


Give All to Faith, . 


. 


80 


Former Pastimes, 


. 


81 


Summer is Come, . 


. 


83 


Nature's Song, .... 


. 


84 


A Spring Morning in the Country, . 


. 


84 


The Water Lily, . 


, 


86 


The Unknown Dead, 


, , 


87 


My Choice, .... 


, 


89 


To the Susquehanna River, . 


. 


90 


Desire and Fulfillment, . 


. 


92 


Paying Tribute, 


. 


93 


The Remorse of Hannah Moore, 


. 


93 


A Passing Mood, 


. 


97 


The Old Church Bell, . 




98 


The Vision, .... 


. 


99 


The Passing Tempest, . 




102 


The Strange Friendship of John Long 


and Tupenn) 




Short, .... 


. 


104 


A Memory Picture, 


. 


108 


The Better Way, 


. 


no 


How I Spent the Day With Nature, 


. 


113 


The Chorister's Heroism, . 


. 


115 


Blow, Wind, Blow, 


. 


117 


The Aster, .... 


. 


118 


The Susquehanna's Plaint, 




119 


A Love Song, 


, , 


121 


By the River, .... 




122 


The True Course, 


. 


123 



Contents 



IX 



Yes and No, ...••• 


124 


^ To the Queen of Rivers, .... 


125 


The Derehct, ...... 


127 


The Song of the People, .... 


132 


The Joys of Memory, . . . . . 


133 


Aerial Voices, ..... 


135 


\ Along the Susquehanna, 


135 


Two Pictures, ..... 


138 


The Meeting on the Ice, 


141 


The Fairy Queen, ..... 


146 


Where My Love Dwells, 


151 


An Afternoon With Nature, 


152 


The Lesson in the Fence Corner, 


154 


The Flower, ...... 


155 


To Sleep, ..... 


156 


When the Bloom Is on the Clover, 


158 


O Hills of My Country, 


. 159 


I Never Knew, ..... 


160 


The Motherly Wren, .... 


. 161 


Ballad of the Rover, .... 


161 


An Entreaty, . . . . . 


. 163 


The Fate of Little Rob Roy, 


164 


To An Uncrowned Ruler, 


. 167 


The Wind at Play, 


169 


The Letter, ..... 


. 171 


The Song of Labor, .... 


J73 


An Autumn Ramble, .... 


. 174 


Be Watchful, . . . 


175 


An Old Man's Soliloquy, 


. 177 


Back on the Farm, ..... 


180 


A Supplication, ..... 


. 183 


Too Much Speed, ..... 


184 


The Eagle, ..... 


. 186 



Contents 



The Thistle's Song to the Rose 
A Dubious Treasure, 
Truth and Falsehood, 
When the Sandman Comes. 

Sonnets — 

The Combat, 

To the Farthest Star, 

Eugene Field, . 

The Poet's Mind, . 

Great Souls, 

Hypocrisy, . 

Some Days, 

The Great Wrong, . 

In a Tower, 

Farewell, Old Year, 

The Secret, 

The Poet's Farewell to His Thoughts, 





. 190 




191 




. 191 




193 




. 194 




194 




. 195 




196 




. 196 




197 




. 198 




198 




. 199 


• 


200 




. 200 



SONGS 

OF THE 

SUSQUEHANNA 



THE SCULPTOR. 

STOOD the sculptor at his task, 
O'er his face a shielding mask ; 
Chisel held he, held he ready, 
Waiting for his lamp to steady. 

At his side a lady fair 
Halted, with a wondering air : — 
^* Sculptor, I thy work would see ; 
Prithee, wilt thou show it me?" 

Said the sculptor, with a smile, 
Bittered with no wormwood guile, 
** Pardon, but I've scarce begun. 
Wait till when the statue' s done. 



12 Songs of the Stisquehanna 

' ' Those poor busts there ranged before thee, 
Are but remnants from life's story ; 
These chips here comprise the wages 
Memory pays to all the ages. 

'* Others' thoughts have I been thinking, 
Others' chains have been re -linking, — 
But to-day I lift the mask. 
And free-faced renew my task." 

In the future's marble heap. 
Who shall say what statues sleep ; 
Or what secrets lie concealed 
In Time's yet unjointed field? 



THE DIAMOND. 



THE following inspiration is intended to represent 
the language of a man of conscience who, while 
strolling along the beach, discovers a matchless diamond 
sparkling in the sand, and the conversation between 
himself and the spirit of the stone, whose aid he invokes 
for his edification ; and the tragic end of both. 

Blest eyes ! what's this you've sunned ! — 
A dream -paling diamond ! 
Tossed here by the wild waves to tame it ! 



Songs of the Susquehanna 13 

How dazzlingly handsome ! 
'Twould buy a king's ransom : — 
I — think — in — my — queen' s — crown — I' 11 frame 
it ! 

But fain I'd the mystery 

Remove from its history, 
Ere permission I grant her to wear it : — 

Then : '' Shrouded in sleep, 

Than the Sphinx's more deep, 
Awake ! O thou prisoner-spirit ! 

' * Awake from thy slumbers, 

Arise, and in numbers 
Unfold thou the knowledge I seek. 

In the name of yon sea. 

And the winds blowing free, 
I beseech thee to hear me and speak ! — 

*' By the Name evils shun. 

And the thrice Blessed One, 
Appear ! I command thee, O slave ! — " 

'Tis well ! — the charm works. 

Now round the rim lurks 
Such a halo as saints' portraits have. 

Now o'er each small facet 
How the light travels, as it 
Were burning some crimes to disclose. 



14 Songs of the Stisgtichanna 

Now where the rays focus, 
'Tis stained like the crocus, 
Or flame-colored heart of a rose. 

And now there's a semblance 

Of facial lineaments, 
Like the faces one sees in a vision ; 

And now the tongue stutters. 

Now mumbles and mutters, 
And now the words flow with precision : 

' ' In that far, remote land. 

Where the moon -mountains stand, 
I was born, on a high mountain crest ; 

I there lay confined, 

No care on ray mind. 
Then the sun kissed a soul in my breast. 

'< From the cold earth's embrace 

I was wrested, to grace 
The thick locks of an African King ; 

When his sudden demise 

Bequeathed me — a rich prize — 
To a robber whom no poets sing. 

'■ ' I was next, by force ta' en 
From that outlaw, then slain, 
And declared an explorer's commodity. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 15 

So, from mountain to sea 
I was borne, where I'm free 
To assert I was thought a great oddity. 

^' I was toasted, admired, 

Overvalued, desired. 
Till my charms drove the fair sex quite frantic ; — 

When, at length, out of fear 

For my safety so dear, 
I was wafted beyond the Atlantic. 

" There my scintillant rays 

Drew a sunburst of praise 
As they forced thy praise from yon sand hill. 

And I served to infuse 

Th' immemorial muse 
With ideas thick feathered with scandal. 

* ' I was then purged and blessed, 

And with neatest skill pressed 
With a pearl in a crown of gold wire ; 

When for hours we sate 

On a monarch's bald pate. 
For the whole royal court to admire. 

*' But like an unshrived soul. 
Nor mayor nor monk in cowl 
Can make lay with a cross or a truncheon ; 
I found scant rest I own, — 



1 6 SoJtgs of the Susqiiehanna 

And so, from that king's throne 
I soon passed to his mistress's mansion. 

*' An age-long year I dwelt 

In that unhallowed belt, — 
Shed my rays in that atmosphere tainted. 

Where every nook therein, 

And cranny reeked with sin, 
Even worse than your Tolstois have painted. 

*' There vice of every kind 

That man can call to mind. 
Daily gathered its quota of sinew ; 

There hoary-haired sinners — 

And smooth-faced beginners — 
But you've evidence, so wherefore continue ? 

*' Thenceforth a rover's life 

I led, with intrigue, strife. 
And ignoble treachery banded ; 

Till, by rare selection, 

In a gem collection, 
I, the Koh-i-noor's rival, was landed. 

^' There were diamonds and pearls. 
Loved gem of the earls ; 
There were rubies, like drops of bird's blood ; 
There were jacinths and moonstones, 



Songs of the Sttsqtiehanna 17 

And zircons and cinnamon -stones, 
With spinels from the time of the flood. 

'' There were jargoons and sapphires, 

Secured from the Caffirs 
By explorers employed by the press j 

There were aquamarines, 

And black tourmalines, 
And streakt onyxes owned by Queen Bess, 

"There turquoises so splendid. 

And fire -opals blended 
Their bright hues with the blood-stone gory ; 

And the hard corundums, 

And cat's-eyes that cost sums, 
Seemed drowned in this casket of glory. 

' ' By the side of the topaz 

The chrysoberyl was, 
With its foil the most fine olivine ; — 

There were beryls so blue, 

And emeralds too. 
With corals of curious design. 

'' Near a venus's hair-stone. 

Into strong relief thrown 
By a nestful of bird's ^^^g moss-agates. 

Was a carbuncle red. 

To a cornelian wed, 
And an amethyst, gem of the prelates. 



1 8 So7igs of tJie Susquehanna 

'* Beside that fair rebel, 

The chlorastrolite pebble, 
Was a garnet superb as a neighbor ; 

Whilst a glittering hoard 

Of lesser gems poured 
Forth their beams from the hilt of a sabre. 

'' But not in one cage 

Should I wear out life's rage, 
Although under the surveillance of Ate, 

So, by means of black art, 

And a paste counterpart, 
I was smuggled o'er seas soon to Hayti. 

'* There 'neath those southern skies, 

Whose hues unrivalled rise 
Into splendors clipped only by vision, 

Led I a checkered life, 

'Mid peacefulness and strife. 
Ever held with impartial precision. 

' ' There served I to solace 

Those dons of the palace, 
That mere insular chivalry nourished ; 

Nor slept I long unshown. 

Save when for whims unknown, 
Feudal wars intermittingly flourished. 

" Where e'er my lightnings led 
Crimes ceaseless followed, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 19 

Like to gulls after storms on the ocean. 

E'en to church say I went, 

Or cathedral gloom pent, 
I burst there half the beads of devotion. 

'' Sooth of the prison cell 

I something, too, might tell, — 
More than once in a dungeon I languished ; 

Nor few the title -proud 

Through me to dust have bowed, — 
But attend while I tell of some vanquished, 

''First, there's the duchess's ward. 

Who loved not less her lord. 
But a necklace of jewels far more ; 

Wherefore, her once pure soul 

She pledged — a kind of toll 
Yet obtains, but far less than of yore. 

* ' An heiress then, self-willed, 

With form of slender build, 
And the rose of the dawn for complexion, 

Was in due course beguiled. 

Turned white, then red, then smiled. 
As she leaned for the kiss she should shun. 

'' Again like brand from hell 
The dooming mandate fell, 
Or voluminous folds of a drag-net ; 



20 So7tgs of the Susquehanna 

Anon was lured astray 
A bride — to lust that day, 
As the needle is drawn by the magnet. 

'' And so on and so forth, 
'Twixt blinding tears and mirth, 

All the number of my days were divided 
Now under seas of pain, 
Now on Joy's boundless main. 

Like a rudderless ship I was guided. 

' ' But ere this soon spent breath 
Shall cease in wordless death, 

And I pass to my previous condition ; 
I crave thy attention 
To the end ; the declension 

Of the sun need not mar the rendition, 

'' As oft an o'ercast day. 

When clouds like birds of prey 
Undeterred sweep the dome of the sky, 

Calls up a night so mild. 

With peace so reconciled, 
That Heaven seems never so nigh ; 

" So across the black lake 
Of that epoch there brake. 
Such a night, with a radiance so sheen, 
That I well nigh forgot, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 2-1 

Such the change in my lot, 
All the surfeit of horrors I'd seen. 

' ' But alas ! not for long 

Doth the nightingale's song 
Undisturbed fill the ear of dun night ; 

For in some thicket deep, 

The gaunt owls a watch keep, 
Soon to animate Philomel's flight. 

' ' From that balmy-breathed isle 

To this home of God's smile 
I was taken, — how slow the days went ; — 

The sails of my pride 

To the utmost were tried, 
By the gales of confined discontent. 

'' But scarce a week's brief round. 

The grave -yard Past had found. 
O'er a highway strewed thickly with bones ; 

When lo ! to this dune's side, 

Who owned me was decoyed, 
And dispatched by a band of padrones. 

''And now but one more word. 

And thou my tale hast heard. 
And to speech I shall rise nevermore ; 

In yonder sea he lies. 

Perchance as rare a prize 
In that realm as e'er I was on shore. 



22 So7igs of the Susqtiehanna 

**With features swoln and black, 

And eyes that all sight lack, 
Lie his slayers in yonder copse, dead. 

Would' St hear whom did this last? 

Themselves : the blows fell fast : 
Fare thee well. The tale's told. My role's 
played. ' ' 

" Enough ! O gem accurst ! 

Since thy gay splendors burst 
Like a sun o'er the realms of the earth, — 

Where e'er thy bright fires turned, 

A swath in souls were burned ; — 
Thou hast killed joy, banned pleasure, mocked 
mirth. 

'' No more on Beauty's breast 

Shall thy cool lips be pressed, — 
In the bed of old Ocean thou' It fade : 

There sunk in soundless deeps. 

Where the sea its secrets keeps. 
Thou' It return nevermore to thy trade !" 

Here cast he the jewel 

Where the sea-monsters, cruel. 
Lie in wait, early, late, for their prey. 

Deep, deeper went it down, 

That had once crowned a crown, 
Ever lost to the cold stare of day. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 23 

But soon on a wave, 

From his watery grave, 
The spirit appeared in his might ; 

And waving a wand 

Of sea-weeds toward land, 
He shrieked like a gale at its height. 

Then seeing his enemy, 

With a look of venom he 
Moved swift as a flash to his side. 

' ' Alow and alone, ' ' 

He cried, ' ' thou no-bone ! 
Thou found' St me by yon fitful tide. 

*^ E'en where we now stand. 

With thy uplifted hand. 
Thou wrungst from these lips my dark history : 

So, thou, even here. 

With yon wave creeping near, 
Deliver thou thine — story for story. 

'' Haply, then, shall we see. 

How with mine 'twill agree ; 
Come, begin, craven caitiff, begin !" 

But th' accused, unheeding. 

Save with looks pleading, 
Stood unnerved by the watch-dog of sin. 

''What, not yet ready. 
My brave man -lady, — 



24 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Cold, cold will thy tale grow kept waiting : 

Thou wilt not do it ! 

Then, wretch, thou' It rue it ; 
Too much time hast thou now robbed debating. 

* ' There, in yon whelming tide. 

With me thou' It abide, 
Rocked to rest by the hand of the billow ; 

Side by side shall we lie, 

While the years marble by. 
With the sea-urchin's breast for a pillow." 

Then loud winds did roar. 

O'er that surf-bitten shore. 
But the spirit's wild shriek echoed louder. 

As he bore his limp prey 

Through the smothery spray. 
Which the winds scattered westward like powder. 

The thunder then pealed, 

The storm's chariot wheeled 
O'er the hills and the valleys beyond ; — 

And the darkness descended. 

And the sad tale was ended ; 
And I woke from this dream of the diamond. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 25 

THE WIND THE MAIDEN WOOS. 

THE south wind brings, on rainbow wings, 
Soft nights and balmy days ; 
The north wind blows the blasts and snows 
From over the frozen bays. 

The west wind breathes new life among 

The fields of golden corn ; 
And speaks with a prophetic tongue 

At midnight and at morn. 

The east wind, with distended cheeks. 

And lips that burst in showers, 
Spreads life and mirth o'er all the earth, 

And crowns the woods with flowers. 

But, O ! the breeze that sweeter blows 

O'er all this world to me — 
Is that which wings my wave -tossed lad 

Homebound across the sea. 

Last night while wrapt in slumbers sweet. 

In Morpheus' lap caressed, 
I dreampt he came in sooth to me, 

And clasped me to his breast. 

But, ah ! at last the vision passed. 

Too fair was it to stay ; 
And when I woke, the morning broke, 

And swept my lad away. 



26 Songs of the Susquehanna 

HOPE. 

AS Pity, faring forth one morn, 
Unveiled her brow serene, 
A youth she spied, of tresses shorn. 

And sad, dejected mien : 
'' Why droopest thou ? Plast lost thy coins ?' 

*' Ah, no ! fair friend ; 'tis jilted love." 
'' Arise ! take heart ! gird up thy loins. 

And learn with love to cope ;" 
'Twas then was born, all else above, 

Man's brightest blessing — Hope. 

Hope is the nectar to the bee. 

The pollen to the flower, 
The sunshine to the frozen lea. 

The maiden's sweetest dower : 
It is the promise of the morn, 

Breathed from those realms above ; 
The dewdrops to the tender corn — 

The glow of woman's love. 

The flame it is that growing tall, 

Leaps higher yet and higher ; 
The boon of life that speaks to all 

In love's ecstatic fire. 
It is the blossoms that the tree 

Spreads all its branches o'er — 
That sweet Elysium of the free. 

When time shall be no more. 



So7igs of the Susquehanna 27 

THE MAGNOLIA WREATH. 

''T^WAS in the month when roses 

X Their sweetest scents exhale, 
Judge Wise and his two daughters 

Set out for Peaceful Vale. 

From Penn's majestic city 

They started forth that day ; — 
Near Susquehanna's waters 

The smiling valley lay. 

When old King George's soldiers 

Our troops met face to face, 
In many a hard fought battle, 

These dwarfed events took place. 

Death, and unkind Misfortune, 

Their needful actions moved ; 
Before them lay the forest, — 

Behind them all they loved. 

One van, no more, was needed. 

Their earthly stores to bear ; 
And for their modest table 

One gun provided fare. 

For days and nights together. 

Through bosky solitude. 
Their way the trio threaded. 

Sustained by Hope's sweet food. 



28 So?igs of the Susq?icha7iiia 

And as they deeper footed, 

Lo, creatures of every size 
Shot furtive glances at them, 

From wide inquiring eyes. 

How oft the forest's treasures 
Would them for hours allure ! 

How oft the tangled thicket 
Compel the wide detour ! 

At length there came a moment 
When to the maids was given 

A sight such as must gladden 
A soul when entering Heaven. 

For like some friend remembered — 

Just peeping o'er a hill — 
They spied their childhood's cottage, — 

They laughed and wept their fill. 

And they were twins — the sisters. 

Whose cheeks the pinks might shame ; 

And one was perfect featured, — 
And one was plain, and lame. 

But where is there perfection. 
That springs from human loins ! 

The gold dust of our species. 
That mints all perfect coins ? 



Songs of tJic Susqjiehaiuia 29 

Methinks there ne'er was beauty, 

That lodged all gifts divine ; 
Nor poor misshapen creature, 

But bore the Godhead's sign. 

Now one was tall, and comely, 

Like lily in a vase, 
That burns in white-flamed splendor. 

Behind a screen of lace. 

As fair was she, but scentless. 

Unto the spirit's sense. 
As is that flower that's given 

To languorous indolence. 

While one was meek and fragile. 

As is the violet blue ; 
And like that favorite flower, 

As frail, as fragrant, too. 

As frail, ah yes, but truly, 

She something made amend. 
If there be any meaning 

In being Misery's friend. 

For every ailing creature. 

That winged the neighboring air, 
Or walked where she could see it 

Had claims upon her care. 



30 SoTigs of the Susquehanna 

And there they dwelt so peaceful, 

Within that vale of bliss ; 
The bear grew strangely docile, 

The snake forgot to hiss. 

When lo ! one happy morning. 

When Spring its noon-time neared, 

And woods were decked with blossoms, 
A stranger guest appeared. 

Now by the way the maidens 
Behaved when first they met, 

'Tis clear that he was favored 
With manhood's amulet. 

He said he'd been a sailor. 

Had served three years at sea ; 

And once had suffered shipwreck. 
And once near drowned was he. 

Thus listening and conversing, 

They spent Night's choicest boon, 

Till upward sprang the lantern 
Of the midnight rising moon. 

But did he on the morrow 
Depart, and farther roam ? 

Ah, no ! but long he tarried — 
His heart had found its home. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 31 

Nor when the summer evenings 

Their golden gifts bestowed, 
Showed he a sign of roving, 

Nor when the aster blowed. 

Nor e'en when wailing Autmim, 

That Nun gray -robed and pale. 
Gave way to snarling Winter, 

Went he from Peaceful Vale. 

But of these two rare maidens. 

Which was to him most dear ? 
Was it the violet's symbol? 

Was it the lily's peer? 

Each morn, since Chance conducted 

His wandering footsteps there. 
He felt his heart grow tender. 

When left with either fair. 

But should the other charmer 

Upon their walk be found. 
His spirits, straightway frightened. 

Went fluttering to the ground. 

For kisses are completest 

When shared with one alone, 
As meat is ever sweetest 

That's nearest to the bone. 



32 Songs of the Susquehanna 

So when the heart is breaking 
For love's united bliss, 

What else can still its aching 
Like sweetheart's soothing kiss. 

When Lily's eyes were sending 
Love's messages to him, 

There was no bee so happy 
x\long the forest's rim. 

Let Violet's golden tresses 
Across his face be blown, 

He would not yield his rapture 
To claim a monarch's throne. 

So 'twixt this dual fire 
His advent there uplit, 

He mocked the very midges 
Amid the bowers that flit. 

Ofttimes the case he pondered. 
His brain oft cudgelled he, — 

Until he wellnigh doubted 
If answer there might be. 

And time wore on, and gayly 
Her robes the spring assumed. 

While April smiled in showers, 
And answering flowers bloomed. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 33 

When lo ! one starlit morning, 

A rare surprise he planned, — 
He left the sleeping cottage, 

A swamp lay near at hand. 

A moment's space his shadow 

Upon the greensward lay, 
Then toward the swamp's recesses, 

It steadily held its way. 

Now o'er young ferns whose fringes 

Would grace a city's gardens ; 
Now o'er a brook whose waters, 

Concealed its muskrat wardens. 

Nor tree, nor densest thicket. 

Nor vine its passage stayed. 
Till 'neath a sweet magnolia. 

Where it remained and played. 

At their repast that morning. 

What was it brought the bloom 
T' the features of the maidens. 

And glorified the room ? 

What was it but those flowers. 

Within the swamp that grew ; 
The lovely, white magnolias. 

All dappled, dashed with dew. 
3 



34 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Ne'er seemed the sun so radiant, 

As on that merry day ; 
Ne'er seemed the sky so brilliant, 

Ne'er looked the fields so gay. 

For days the sun was fired 

Into its mark of night, 
Till trained by Heaven's gunner, 

The ninth had taken flight. 

When sick with some dread fever, 
His cot the loiterer sought, 

And blessed the cooling lotions 
His pitying nurses brought. 

Nor was the morrow destined 
Of better things to tell ;— 

Then in that lowly mansion 
How many the tears that fell. 

All night he lay unsleeping, 

With burning brow and cheek ; 

And when day dawned, the suff'rer 
Looked wasted, wan and weak. 

But when the dreaded crisis 
Was reached the seventh day. 

One sister came — an angel, 
To witch his pains away. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 35 

But one came not — 'twas Lily, 

Whose voice he longed to hear ; — 

But still remained one comfort, — 
For Violet still was near. 

As vessels in mid ocean. 

By favoring breezes fanned, 
Appear to shipwrecked seamen, 

Upon an isle of sand. 

So seemed the ship of sunlight 

That o'er his sea did rise ; 
But his ship was an angel. 

Its lamps a woman's eyes. 

Then soon the eager patient 

Received his strength again ; 
And when came June, resplendent. 

Earth held no sturdier swain. 

Nor aught he knew save pleasure. 

Thenceforward in those bowers ; 
He shunned the swamp's recesses. 

When foraging for flowers. 

Nor did those bright blooms ever 

From his green memory fade. 
Which helped him choose the treasure — 

The frail but fitter maid. 



^6 Songs of the Siisqiiclianna 

And when before the altar 

They breathed their nuptial vows, 

A wreath of these same flowers 
Adorned the bride's pale brows. 



ASPIRATIONS. 

WHAT we aspire to, that we are, 
Let the being make or mar ; 
Tho' our hopes ne'er reach fruition, 
Tho' we lose our heart's ambition, 
And the longings we possess 
Die unsated, ne'ertheless 
We are no more what we were 
Ere we felt our manhood stir, 
Than the butterfly we pass 
Is the chrysalis it was. 

He who struggles not to rise. 

Shall be spurned by him who tries, — 

Lo ! the billows that we breast 

Will not sufl"er us to rest ; 

They will either break before, 

Or they'll toss us back on shore ; — 

In this world of loss and gain 

There exists no middle plane, — 

Therefore, we must choose our course, 

Be a failure or a force. 



Soigs of the Susquehanna 37 

A REBUKE. 

THROUGH forests to roam, 
Where the winds are at home, 
Unattended I once started forth ; 
Where her secrets safe lie, 
From the average eye, 
Unsuspicious I trod the damp earth. 

But soon murmurs I heard, 

Then no muscle I stirred, 
While the blood from my cheek vanished quite ; 

For lo ! to one side, 

Full occasion I spied. 
Where a covey of quail dashed in flight. 

You deem me a gillie. 

And immeasurably silly. 
At the whirring of quail to grow pale : 

Ye are sophists, green-eyed. 

Compacted with pride ; — 
'Twas the sportsmen I feared, not the quail. 



A FAIR COMMUNICANT. 

DOWN the shaded street she goes. 
All things making room for her, — 
Trees assume a calm repose — 



38 Songs of the SusqueJianna 

In her breath's the scent of rose, 
To her nod soft breezes stir. 

E'en the tunic clasped about her 
Cannot hide such comeliness ; 
Fair Diana's self was stouter — 
But no saint was e'er devouter 
Than this dream of loveliness. 

For her footsteps on the street 

Music waits with sweetest sound, — 
Whilst her bosom, like the wheat. 
Where two globes of ivory meet. 

Swells and falls with grace profound. 

Where she moves no base thought hastens, 

Brothers' looks e'en ruffians wear ; 
E'en the strumpet's stare she chastens, — 
On her book her eyes she fastens, 
As she nears the House of Pray'r. 

Other charmers' smiles and glances 

With a measure of success 
I have courted ; but the chances 
Are but naught to all advances 

To this maid in Lenten dress. 



So Jigs of the Susquehanna 39 

LITTLE SILVER TONGUE. 

ONE time when fields were green with corn, 
And woods were fair with flowers, 
A little cottage maid was born. 
Between two April showers. 

Her eyes were bright as stars that shine, 

Telling of joys to be ; 
Her hair was golden, soft and fine, 

Fair as a rose was she ! 

Her parents fondly loved the child. 

With a faith that cannot err ; 
And at her faults they only smiled, — 

Because they had but her. 

And as her baby years slipped by, 

As years of childhood will. 
So sweetly grew her minstrelsy. 

That all remarked her skill. 

And so acknowledged grew her fame 

Among both old and young. 
That she was given the playful name 

Of Little Silver Tongue. 

She loved her toys, was fond of play, 
And when she'd choose to roam. 



40 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Her doll, with cheeks as bright as day, 
Was seldom left at home. 

Now all the neighbors far and near 
Loved Little Silver Tongue, — 

And passing strangers paused to hear 
The carols that she sung. 

She loved to frolic in the sun, 
And sport with the young lambs, 

That friskily would skip and run 
Where grazed their quiet dams. 

She joyed as well to climb the hills. 

With basket on her arm. 
And cull the flowers along the rills 

That crossed her father's farm. 

But whether she lingered at the spring, 

Or tript the hills along, 
The shy old echoes oft would ring. 

Responsive to her song. 

And when the reapers in the field 
Would hear her jocund voice, 

They'd to its genial influence yield, 
And bid their hearts rejoice. 

She often to the forest went, 
Which stood not far away. 



Songs of the S^isqiiehanna 41 

And sported 'neath its leafy tent 
From noon till close of day. 

But once, when she was tripping through 

A flower-spangled glen, 
A stealthy bear stole into view 

From out his draughty den. 

He did not offer her a chair, 

As all good neighbors should : 
O no ! for he was just a bear, 

And she was good bear food. 

But all unconscious of the foe, 

A favorite song sang she. 
When soon the bear rose up, and lo ! 

A bearish dance danced he. 

For music hath a charm, I trow, 

For even the savage heart. 
And so the bear was charmed, and now 

Was acting out his part. 

And when — for soon it came to pass — 

She spied him from a log, 
She felt no fear, she thought he was 

Some big Newfoundland dog. 

And though he snarled a mild demur 
When she came toddling near. 



42 Sofi^s of the SusqucJianna 

She smoothed his tawny, tangled fur, 
And playfully pulled his ear. 

'Tis said th' All Wise, t' achieve his ends, 
The strangest means hath sent, — 

And so these two became fast friends, 
To serve some wise intent. 

So daily to the forest strayed 

This sunny-natured child. 
And with old Bruin in the shade 

The fleeting hours beguiled. 

'Tis true, when Silver Tongue first told 

About her " doggie dear," 
Her mother's heart turned strangely cold, 

With a vague sense of fear. 

But as all creatures loved the child. 
She deemed no harm would come, — 

So, when the days were warm and mild, 
She'd still unchidden roam. 

But one day when she'd reached the place 

Where she and Bruin met, 
And saw of him nor sign nor trace. 

She felt a keen regret. 

Then up she sprang and seized her hood, — 
Resolved to seek for him, 



So;io;-s of the Susquehanna 43 

So, off she ran through the thick wood 
Where all was strange and dim. 

She passed the cave where Echo dwells, 

Yet never once is seen ; 
She saw the gentle fairies' cells. 

And thought she spied their queen. 

She crossed a brook that splashed around. 

And listened, half afraid. 
To the continuous tinkling sound 

The running waters made. 

The birds that nested in the trees 

Called down to her in glee. 
And. all the curious-minded bees 

Asked who this child might be. 

The wild-flowers leaned across her path, 

And tried to bar her way. 
They thought a fairy from her bath 

Had come with them to play. 

And one big bell-flower, bold enow. 

Whose cup no bee e'er skips. 
Stood up on tiptoe, made a bow, 

And kissed her on the lips. 

A squirrel frisking on a limb 
. He flirted with her, too. 



44 Songs of the Stisqitehanna 

And an old owl, big-eyed and grim, 
Called to her, *' Wh-o are yo-o-o-u?" 

And all around her, little sounds 

Of insects far and near 
Incessantly went on their rounds — 

And little eyes that peer ; 

Till she began to grow afraid. 

And wished she'd stayed at home. 

And then the dread of danger made 
The trickling tear-drops come. 

She wandered lonely as a sail 

On a wild and wintry sea, 
And though she called, 'twas no avail, 

Where could her stanch friend be ! 

A weary while she wandered on. 
Oppressed in heart and brain ; 

But though the day Avas well nigh gone. 
Her search proved all in vain. 

At last she paused, quite out of breath. 
And then— with one wild scream — 

She fell a panther's form beneath, — 
Then lay as in a dream. 

But scarcely had those accents ceased 
Upon the startled air. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 45 

Than came the roar of another beast, — 
'Tis he, the faithful bear. 

And then arose such sound of cries 

As seldom had been heard 
Beneath those blue, transparent skies 

By man, or beast, or bird. 

Just how it closed, this dreadful fight. 

Is more than I can say ; 
But Silver Tongue said, ^' Doggie bite. 

And Kitty runned away. ' ' 

But how fared Little Silver Tongue ? 

And what befel the bear ? — 
That night when th' Angelus bell had rung, 

And lightning rent the air, 

A great black bear, distained with blood, 
Came staggering up the lane. 
And laid her where her mother stood. 
Then vanished in the rain. 

But whether the bear returned to fight 

His wily, watchful foe. 
Or why he disappeared that night, 

No one will ever know. 

But Silver Tongue, with loving care. 
Soon grew as hale as when 



46 Songs of the SusqucJiaiina 

She sported with the sportive bear, 
She'd see no more again. 



SLUMBER SONG. 

BABY, baby, hush your cries. 
Up in yonder bright blue skies 
Stars are twinkling like your eyes. 
Watching o'er my baby ! 

In their midst there sails the moon, 
Looking like a big balloon. 
Bringing down a sleepy tune 
For my little baby ! 

Little baby, go to sleep, 
Angels watch o'er you will keep ; — 
Dreams will come with slumber deep, 
Bringing smiles to baby i 

Baby, baby, when you wake 
Then I will my darling take, 
And again we'll pat-a-cake 
Just to please my baby ! 

Now, my baby, hush-a-by ! 
Tightly close that peeping eye, 
Nothing fear while I am nigh ; 
Hush-a-by my baby ! 



Songs of the Susquehanna 47 

THE BIRD LESSON. 

^ ^ /^\ BIRD from lofty swaying boughs 
V-y/ That trills thy cheerful lays, 
Pray tell me of the world above, 
And things beyond my gaze. ' ' 

Thus to a robin in a tree, 

I once this task preferred ; 
He naught replied — queer minstrel he, 

Feigning he had not heard. 

Again I spoke, and then — slow poke ! 

Clearing his little throat. 
He sang — these words poured down to me 

Like speech from a fairy's boat : 

' ' The world is all a garden gay. 

Where gentle flowers grow ; 
And balmy breathed the breezes are, 

Through all its ways that blow. 

^' In yonder lawn are cherries ripe. 

But they awhile must wait. 
Till I can ventilate my voice 

And tell you of my mate. 

' ' She is the dearest, sweetest dame. 

With softest neck and breast ; 
And, sir, of all the seasons' wives 

She is the proudest, best." 



48 Songs of the Susquehanna 

" No, no !" I said, " you misconstrue 

The language I employ ; 
Now tell me, if you can and will, 

Of other themes of joy." 

''Well, then, within a shady grove, 
Festooned with braids of moss, 

We've built a nest, the cosiest thing 
You ever came across. 

" 'Tis laced and twined with threads of silk, 

And when the zephyrs play, 
It rocks like yonder ship that rides 

At anchor in the bay." 

''Enough, O bird ! 'tis plain," I said, 
"With jaundiced eyes we see ; 

And things which you the most concern. 
They cheer, they charm not me. 

" And yet the world was made for all, 

As all for their own sphere ; 
So while above you live and love, 

I'll court contentment here. 

" So now fly swiftly to your nest. 

And tell, to your dear mate, 
About the truths you taught the man 

Anent the ways of fate." 



So7tgs of the Susquehanna 49 

THE COUNTRY ROXd. 

THE country road ! on teetering wings 
The twittering swallow o'er it skims ; 
And on its dust with oddest whims 
The butterfly his shadow flings ; 
And over it the grape-vine swings 

Its bridging loops from burdened limbs ; 
And many a swan-like cloud there swims 
That oft a settling shower brings 
The country road. 

Along it children love to play, — 

And there I used, a barefoot boy — 
When every month to me was May — 

To while the halcyon hours away : 

O long-lost childhood's realm of joy ! 

The country road ! 



THE BICYCLE BELL. 

AS I wander on my way. 
Through the courtly halls of day, 
With my mind perchance in air, 
Mounting Fancy's mazy stair. 
Or exploring seas of doubt. 
Or in revery devout. 
Why on sudden do I leap, 
4 



50 So Jigs of the Susquehanna 

Like some sudden startled sheep 

In the meadow, half asleep, 

Throw a look across my shoulder. 

Scowl at some amused beholder. 

Grinning idiot I name him. 

Yet no one could hardly blame him. 

Then resume my airy flight. 

Interrupted by the fright ? 

Hark ! that resonant sound will tell, — 

'Tis the dread alarum bell 

On the flying bicycle. 

When you hear that ominous rattle. 

Be not like still-staring cattle. 

Or brave soldiers, formed for battle. 

Looking neither left nor right. 

Be more prudent, take to flight ; 

Safety knows no other rule, 

Better never conned in school, — 

Be a leaper or a fool ; 

Or all lurking terrors quell. 

In a noiseless bicycle. 

With a noisy, noisy bell : — 

What a diff'rence you will find 

Being before or on behind : — 

Well I know of what I sing. 

With its merry ting-a-ling ; — 

For beside my bed each night 

Stands the wheel of my delight, — 

Stands the wheel with bell whose clangor 



Songs of the Susquehanna 51 

Oft hath roused the rustic's anger ; 
This I sometimes mount and ride 
In my dreams, and by my side 
Rides no demon's horrid shape, 
With a face of jungle ape, — 
But a maiden, debonair. 
With red roses in her hair, 
And a look within her eyes 
Fills my heart with sweet surmise — 
Sends me soaring to Paradise : 
Then, as through the dells we go. 
Riding swift, or riding slow. 
How the vibrant ether swells 
With our ringing, which impels 
Thoughts of bliss and wedding-bells. 
At such moments life doth seem 
As a dream within a dream ; — 
But the future is a dell 
Whence hath come no bicycle 
With its secret tattling bell. 



SONG OF ALL THINGS FAIR. 

HERE is a song of all things fair, 
Or fast on earth, or free in air : 
The creeping vines, the slender reeds, 
The sloping lawns, the dewy meads. 



52 Songs of the Susquehanna 

The brawling brooks, the rivers broad — 

Reminders of the ways of God. 

The rustling corn, the waving grain, 

The nibbling sheep, the creaking wain, 

The breezy ocean's broad expanse. 

The birds that meet the morning' s glance ; 

The eye-bewildering thrifty sky — 

The figure of Eternity. 

The turning leaves, the budding ones, 

The morning and the evening suns ; 

The winding valleys, breathing woods, 

And hearts that haunt such neighborhoods ; 

The huddling hills, the bosomy plains. 

Crept o'er by smoky-nostriled trains : 

Prairies, deserts, — treeless tracts, 

The mountains, peaks, — plays in four acts : 

The standing ponds, the crystal lakes. 

The swamps, inviting pains and aches. 

The stagnant pools of purplish hues, 

The bowers breathing celestial dews ; 

The silver sides of sedgy creeks. 

The spring that laves the rocks' worn cheeks. 

Decaying stumps where glow-worms shine, 

A berry-patch, this verse of mine ; 

The lamp's still warmth-diffusing soul, 

The blue flame over catching coal. 

The flies within my room that camp, 

The oil I study from my lamp. 

The spider snared upon my floor, 

And feigning death to make life more. 



So7tgs of the Susquehanna 53 

The mills that with thick vapors spanned, 
Like wreck-resisted steamboats stand ; 
The throbbing engines, factories, shops. 
Where weasel Death sucks lives by drops ; 
The churches, stores, wheeled prodigies, 
The steamships squeezing in the seas, 
The Northern Lights in merry dance, 
The rainbow warmed with Maker's glance ; 
The homes where orphaned hopes are trained, 
Prisons where passions are restrained, 
The hospitals, infirmaries. 
Where science wrestles with disease : 
The painful buzzing telephones. 
That blend yours with a thousand tones, 
The miracle-matching cables bent 
From continent to continent. 

The sullen swine that live in sties. 
Thick peopled with pernicious flies ; 
The lowing calves, unwise that butt, 
Young lambs that frisky capers cut. 
The bull with looks incontinent, 
The cows that such insults resent ; 
The hen respectable and trim. 
Her husband masterly and grim, 
The nervy neighbor-rooster, too. 
Concealing home-beaus all from view. 

The garden patch that loves the sun. 
And gives back kisses ten for one. 



54 Songs of the Susquehanna 

The onion strangled with its breath, 

The squash presaged to early death ; 

Tomatoes blushing for their clothes 

These, green with jealous envy those ; 

The cabbage with its head erect. 

Yet not thrust forward, circumspect ; 

The pumpkins, gold-mines in the sun. 

With silver rail-roads to each one, 

The beet that bleeds its garden's woes — 

The rapine deep of spades and hoes ; 

The dainty pea, th' asparagus bed. 

Bestrewed with many a sleepy head. 

The plebeian bean, warm-hearted, true, 

The half-wild rath cucumber, too. 

And now that friend — we'll leave the garden 

Under your eyes — potato warden. 

The orchard now commands my muse. 
Nor shall the lyre its task refuse ; 
The orchard then my care shall have. 
If only in which to dig a grave ; 
From paradise its grafts descended, 
In paradise its fruits are ended. 
The apple-trees, with bended boughs. 
Dear thoughts of childhood days that rouse. 
With streaky apples out of reach, 
That still a useful precept teach ; 
The pears, than which no fruit more fair 
The trees of all the tropics bear, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 55 

The peaches, through the leaves that gleam 
Like roses dipped in crocks of cream ; 
The plums like polished amethysts 
That Morning wears upon her wrists, 
The cherries sparkling in the sun, 
Red globes of fire seem, every one ; 
The quinces, too, and apricots. 
That taste best from preserving pots ; 
The currants, acidulous, but nice, 
The gooseberries exampling vice. 

The vineyard now ; pray stand you there. 
While I take whiffs of vineyard air, — 
Or no, come too ; come great and small, 
It's wasting there — enough for all ; 
And bring, yes, bring along the babby. 
And if he wants to, fetch the tabby, — 
Not many mansions hold such cheer 
As flows in vineyard atmosphere ; 
The vineyard then, with purple fruit, 
The marbles Bacchus loved to shoot, 
When all the Muses still were young. 
The far-famed vales of Greece among : 
The grape whose skin is so wine-filled 
It scarcely needs to be distilled, 
T' afford a bath for Beauty's lips. 
Beauty who lightly tastes and sips, — 
The vineyard then, beside the spring. 
With all its clustered spheres I sing. 



56 Songs of the StisqiieJianna 

The watermelons, cantaloupes, 
That thrive best on warm sunny slopes — 
Their very names such dreams excite, 
Cold winter melts ; 'tis summer bright : 
The citrons, many-striped and round, 
That best in leveller plots are found : — 
The dogs and cats^ domestic breed, 
The mice and rats, none willing feed ; 
The insects, harping hymns of praise 
To God, the Giver of their days ; 

The lightning leaping from the clouds. 
The rain that issues from their shrouds, 
The polished rocks, the spongy soil. 
The urged team steaming at their toil ; 
The cataracts that rush and roar. 
The mists which hang their surface o'er, 
The moon that beams, the stars' soft light. 
The meteors rocketing the Night ; 
The sun-dogs hounding Day to death, 
The bubbles dying with a breath ; 
The sounds, seas, oceans, earth itself. 
Once part of Heaven ; dropped from Time' s shelf ! 
All these things named are fair, I find, 
Gifts of kind Heaven and Heaven is kind : — 
But fairer than these — or flowers in Spring, 
Is this fair thought : I'm Nature's King ! 



So?igs of the Susqtichanna 57 

A PORTRAIT. 

WOULDST thou a Venus' portrait view, 
Such as the dreaming painters drew, 
Inspired by the sparkling wine. 
Nymph -pressed from grapes like gems that shine? 
Attend, then, while I limn for you 
The fairest fair I e'er did view : — 
Behold her now, with vermeil lips. 
And swelling breasts and rounded hips ; 
With eyes that match the skies in hue 
When Night's pure orbs are peering through. 
And cheeks would teach the peach to bloom 
When Luna labors at her loom ; 
With tapering arms, and slender waist. 
And shoulders to a sculptor's taste, — 
A full-blown rose she minds me of. 
That dew-drops lave and wild bees love : 
With dimpled chin where dapper elves 
And laughing loves disport themselves ; 
Hair of a sunny golden brown, 
A perfect head's all-perfect crown ; — 
Small ears, half hidden in hair mist. 
Resembling sea-shells sea-spray kissed ; 
A voice that through her sweet lips flows 
Would shame the lute's at evening close ; 
Firm pearly teeth, best gems on earth — 
Like gates to guide her silvery mirth : — 
Such is this fair in drapery shut. 



58 Songs of the SusqiieJianna 

Of daintiest imagery, but 

Who'd hold these general charms in fee 

Must first see Opportunity ; 

E'en then he'll have to face a foe 

Who fears no rival high nor low ; — 

For lips, breast, hips, eyes, cheeks and arms. 

Teeth, shoulder, waist, and voice that charms, 

For dimpled chin, and hair's soft gold. 

With head compressed in Beauty's mould, 

And heart, that engine firm that gives 

The motive power whereby she lives ; 

Ay, all these charms in ones and pairs, 

They all are mine, as I am theirs. 



TO A WILDWOOD SPRING. 

SWEET Spring ! within whose crystal eye 
Trees, rocks and clouds reflected lie. 
Thou yield' St a beverage, chaste, divine. 
That far exceeds the smoothest wine. 
Where thy cool wave comes welling up 
From parent earth's exhaustless cup. 
How many a fair one, leaning o'er, 
Hath quaffed of thy refreshing store, — 
While some in wanton mood, I wis. 
Have paid their reckoning with a kiss : 
(O would that I were thee just then, 



Songs of the Sttsquehanna 59 

To spend the smooth coin back again :) 

Here, with their branches twined above, 

The trees themselves are making love ; 

And many song-birds come to sing 

And drink a health to thee, O spring ! 

As I do now, with heart o'erflowing. 

Like to thy stream that's riverward going. 

Here fainting flowers bathe their breath. 

And store up balms 'gainst scytheman Death ; 

And ferns and grasses neighboring near. 

In greener growth admit thy cheer : 

Bright insects, borne on weary wing. 

Oft pause to greet thee, wildwood spring ! 

And at thy fount, by showers nursed. 

The fox and squirrel slake their thirst ; — 

Nor is th' adjacent soil forgot. 

But shares with thee thy tranquil lot : 

And here all men might come to learn 

The lesson we too often spurn : — 

To scatter kindness where we can, 

And prove that God, not man, made man. 



INSCRIPTION FOR A WOODLAND PATH. 

THOU path embowered in leafy shade. 
And edged with many a grassy blade, 
And tender flower growing wild. 
The darling of each darling child, 



6o Songs of the Susquehanna 

Thou art no common wayside path, 

Such as each road and meadow hath, 

But like a poem, never dull, 

A river flowing beautiful : 

How fair thy borders, seen in spring, 

Where wildwood choirs collect and sing : 

How dear to hearts awheel thou art. 

Each day along thy track that dart ; 

With banks to tempt the tongue to talk, 

And spring hardby the thirst to balk : — 

Thou kindleth up these hearts with love 

Unfelt by those afoot who move : 

To them who walk thou too art dear, 

And when the vernal skies are clear 

There is no fairer sight to see 

Than those who tread thy ways and thee ; 

Then matron, maid, and child and man 

Are seen in lengthening caravan. 

Renewing strength for dear delights, 

And duties dull, and care that frights. 

Here nurse-watched infants love to stray. 

And children joy to romp and play ; 

And maidens secrets love to tell 

To youths who love to hear them well ; 

The student here consults his books ; 

The faded fair improves her looks ; 

The poet studies Nature' s ways ; 

The sad-eyed grieving mourner prays ; 

Misshapen age its cares abate. 

And only Death thy charms can hate. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 6 1 

THE HERMIT THRUSH. 

''T^WAS midnight past. The sleepy stars, 
1 Those orbs who' d watched a thousand wars, 

Like faithful sentinels at their posts, 

Kept guard o'er earth's enshadowed hosts, — 

But one that night no sleep had found. 

For reason that his love was drowned — 

And that one I, — alas for me ! 

That could not this our fate foresee, — 

For we had courted, as lovers should. 

Had quaffed love's vintage, and found it good ; 

When through some fault of mine, or hers, 

We'd ceased to be heart worshippers. 

We quarrelled, though the birds of spring 

On bush and bough were carolling. 

The bees were tucked in their cells to sleep. 

And Night o'er the flowers soft dews did weep, 

When, loitering in the grove, we heard 

The sad, sweet song o' the hermit bird, — 

When she to me : " Ere I thee have. 

May that sweet spirit sing o'er my grave !" 
Well, time revolved, and summer showers 

Had called to life far other flowers 

Than those the earlier season knew, 

Of grander growth and brighter hue, 

When, oh, how stunned was I to hear. 

From lips I long had held most dear. 

That she was going — was going away, 

To cross the ocean — perhaps to stay. 



62 Songs of the Stisqiiehanna 

We bade each other a light good-by, 
But there was that within her eye 
Which, had I only read aright, 
How different my lot to-night ! 
Now hark, ye lovers, sweethearts, too : 
To your affections be ever true. 
For there may come a time, too soon, 
When love will jangle out of tune, — 
And then, perhaps, with me you'll say. 
While wandering down life's weary way : 
There is no blow that Heaven can send, 
Like that of losing a well -loved friend \ 
There is no joy so sweet, so dear. 
As that of having a loved one near. 

She went — and left me here to pine, 
Like Blindness for the lost sunshine, 
Without the one redeeming grace. 
To feel its warmth upon my face. 
She went — and I was left alone, 
A flower whence all its charm has flown ; 
A tempest-tossed, dismantled bark, 
A lone deer wandering in the dark ; — 
I first had thought to follow her. 
But Pride stepped in with strong demur. 
And pointed out the thankless fact 
That that would be a spaniel's act ) 
And so I hungry -hearted stayed, 
And watched the flowers she gave me fade ; 
When lo ! one day from lack of will 
To guard my health, I fell quite ill, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 63 

And so lay racked in mind and frame, 

Till, one blest day, a letter came ; 

'Twas sealed with wax from over sea, 

And bore the postmark, Germany, — 

I tore it open — a faint perfume 

Stole forth and lingered in the room : 

Th' epistle was hers, and in't she told 

Nothing that was not all pure gold. 
She'd heard, she said, that I was ill. 

And hoped me better, and that good skill — 

And here she soothed my soul to peace. 

And begged me write to her in Greece — 

For there to-morrow she meant to start : 

That night I wrote with all my heart ! 

Another letter duly penned. 

And then she named me more than friend ; 

And so communicating, we 

Again crossed love's sweet boundary ; 

And of the things we had to tell — 

When you're in love you'll know full well. 

Fatigued at length and cloyed with pleasure — 
For life was never meant for leisure. 
However many ways we try 
To dodge the sentence of the sky — 
Her burthened ship was back at sea. 
And speeding swift toward port and me. 
Well, finally she hove in sight. 
And every eye that watched was bright \ 
A storm was raging on the deep, 
And she was struggling in its sweep,— 



64 Songs of the Susquehanna 

When, hark ! what sound was that ? hark ! yes ! 

The minute gun ! she's in distress ! 

And see ! the billows sweep her deck, 

And now she rolls a helpless wreck ! 

She's drifting steadily toward land. 

And naught can save her but God's hand ! 

Be sure the waves that fell that night, 
First rose to an unheard of height ; 
And, oh, when the swift lightning smote. 
And in her shrouds the ship's doom wrote, 
How cursed I fate that brought, alas ! 
My darling to this direful pass. 

Then, as with disentangled hand, 
She threw a kiss toward us on land, 
Again, like sentence passed, I heard — 
While all the void of heaven was stirred 
With fell disaster's roar and rush — 
The sad, sweet song o' the hermit thrush. 

And that is why I could not sleep 
That night, but only weep and weep. 



RED MEN'S DAY 
A Satire. 



WEATHER good, good food, 
Thirst extinguishers, thief distinguishers, 
Naught neglected, more expected, 
Handful came, mortal shame. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 65 

O, that was a gala day, 
When the Red Men, dressed so gay, 
Marched our good streets up and down. 
Won our hearts, and took the town ! 
In my dreams I see them still, 
March up heroes' dusty hill ; 
How the dogs howled when they viewed 
Such a goodly multitude ! 
How the children danced and cried, 
As they watched those true and tried 
Veterans from the bloodless wars. 
Tramping on 'neath stars and bars ! 
When will such a band of men. 
E'er parade our streets again? 
Ghosts of dead men in your graves. 
Much you missed when all those braves. 
With their bowie knives in belts. 
And their leggins made from pelts. 
While the sun poured hotly down. 
Came and marched through Vildan town. 
If I live a thousand years, 
And retain my eyes and ears, 
Haply I'll behold once more 
Just such warriors pass my door — 
March in numbers just as strong 
As that day, with cheer and song, 
Marched those braves that went for ay. 
O'er the hills and far away. 
But, if not, then here's to you ; 
5 



66 Songs of the Susquehanna 

O you warriors, tried and true ! 
Much I owe you, for you brought 
To my mill much food for thought ; 
But should e'er you come again. 
Bring, O bring more marching men ! 



KINDRED SYMPATHY. 

Composed Under Stress of a Heavy Misfortune. Jan., '86. 

BEAR up ! " how well they chant this lay ; 
' ' Bear up ! " the words but mock my gloom; 
Can mankind bid the sun to stay, 
Or make the snow to bloom ? 

*^Bear up !" but why deride their aim, 

'Tis kindness prompts them thus to speak ; 

And they but need the strength the same. 
And sympathy unshared is weak. 

But ah ! it sometimes seems to me 

That Fate, to whom e'en tyrants bow, 

Might strengthen more the suppliant's knee. 
Or bind less tight his throbbing brow. 

Yet some do say the darkest hour 

Is just before the break of day ; 
That blackest, heaviest ills that lower. 

Give entrance to some softening ray. 



Songs of the Siisquehanna 67 

But I am crushed, and crazed with woe, 
And hope is weak, though love is strong ; 

And all my grievous cares but grow 
Like winds that sweep the seas along. 

But hark ! methinks comes from the sky 
A song of love, now soft, now low : — 

But no ! 'tis some lone night-bird's cry. 
That only feeds my former woe. 

And art thou, too, O bird of night. 

Aweary of life's trials sore ? 
And hast thou lost, like me, the light ? 

If so, farewell, I'll weep no more. 



TWO DAYS. 



TWAS in a merry sun -lit land_, 
One happy morn I strayed, 
And felt the brave earth's heart expand. 

Beneath its cloak unfrayed. 
Whereon Spring wrought with deft, glad hand, 
Bright blooms wind- stirred and swayed. 

A riper hour I chanced that way. 

When oh ! how different ! 
The scentless flowers in grave-clothes lay. 

With frost like tears besprent \ 
The clouds had led the sun astray, — 

And th' Earth's proud garb was shent. 



68 Songs of the Susquehanna 

A LITTLE SPRIG OF YARROW. 

THE late November air was chill, 
As winding down a wintry hill 
I found, still blooming near a rill, 

A little sprig of yarrow ; 
I of its glories drank my fill. 
Then mused o'er it in sorrow. 

For O, it looked so tender, sweet, 
With all its beauties still complete, 
To pluck it thence from its fair seat 

Seemed cruelly ungrateful. 
And yet to leave it for the sleet 

Were sure an act as hateful. 

For it had heard the thrush's song, 

While August's sun burned high and strong, 

And cheered the birds that passed along 

To sunny south' ron valleys ; 
But winds those woods would sweep ere long. 

In wolfish blasts and sallies. 

And thus I mused, debating there, 
While frosty ground and nipping air 
Were summing up my beauties rare. 

With mutual icy wonder^ 
And planning how they'd likely share 

Their lawful, easy plunder, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 69 

When came a goat with beard of tow, 
And nipt the flower where it did grow, 
And laid its frosted beauties low, 

Nor asked why I was waiting ; 
'Tis thus misfortune deals its blow, 

While we stand by debating. 



TANSY. 



WHILE saunt'ring through a wildwood way. 
Upon a chill November day, 
In quest of food for fancy, 
I chanced upon a stalk or spray 
Of aromatic tansy. 

It held its red-gold clusters up 
To catch from sky's inverted cup 

Some moisture for its lips ; 
Some nectar for the bee to sup. 

When in each vase he dips. 

This herb with leaves of finest lace. 
Each midrib clasping at the base. 

Reminds me of my Nancy, 
For she has just such comely grace 

As this gold-flowered tansy. 



70 Songs of the Susquehanna 

O, she's a rare and buxom maid ! 
And like that bloom within the shade, 

She clings unto my fancy, 
When other lighter loves do fade, — 

O, a rare charm has Nancy ! 

And though I have a vagrant love, 
And often through strange fields I rove 

To please my truant fancy, 
I'll meet this flower in every grove 

To mind me of my Nancy. 

Now some will sing the queenly rose, 
That comes when Spring is near its close, 

And some the modest pansy ; 
I sing the manliest flower that grows, — 

The common, wayside tansy. 



LOVE, THE IDEAL POET. 

HE walks ! and in the bickering sky 
The clouds light up with kindling eye, 
As though forewarned a friend was nigh 

That all things hath ; 
And soft and low the breezes sigh 
Along his path. 



Songs of the Siisqiiehaiina 71 

He speaks ! and strife is hushed and still, 
But at each utterance of his skill 
All things rejoice aloud, until 

The echoes throng ; 
As sweet as sound of rippling rill 

His pastoral song. 

He sleeps ! the songsters cease their lays. 
The fish their sports, and languor weighs 
Upon all men, or beasts that chase, 

Or crop their food. 
Upon all insects in their place. 

In field or flood. 

He dies ! All Nature mourns its loss ; 
The winds that sough, the waves that toss. 
The trees and traceries of moss 

Bear kindred grief, 
And o'er his grave read on the cross : 

'* Here lies life's Chief." 



MOTHERHOOD. 



WHAT flower so rare, so amaranthine fine. 
Save Virtue's self, which ever should be first. 
As that of motherhood? Since Eden's fall, 
There is no bliss on earth so sweet as that 
A lawful mother feels, when her first child. 



72 So?igs of the Susquehanna 

All swathed in robes, like rosebud wrapped in snow, 

Is laid upon her arm. With what fond joy, 

Commixed with fears too bodiless to last, 

She folds the precious burden to her breast. 

How brave she looks, and with how naive a mien 

She beckons to her spouse — forgot till then — 

That he may come and share her happiness : 

Nor deem the blush that mantles her fair cheeks, 

As his warm lips touch hers in tenderness. 

Is one of shame : nay, rather 'tis the seal 

Of spotless innocence and sterling pride. 

Then with a reverential awe I say, 

While stars collective chant it from the skies : 

Hail Motherhood ! Thou pearl beyond all price ! 

Thou second gem in the tiara of life ! 

Companion-piece to Virtue ! Honor's foil ! 

And sanctifier of the name of Home ! 

I bow my knee to thee, as all men must. 



THE STORY OF THE YEARS. 

ONCE lived on earth a lad — ye knew him well, 
Ye justling winds with ancient pride that swell- 
Who loved the birds — how well, none knew but he, 
And every flower he loved, and every tree ; 
The years he owed to time — a loving debt — 
Were half the number of the alphabet, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 73 

When bending o'er a bridge, by all unseen, 
He carved these lines with kindly blade and keen : 
' ' No bird in the sky 

Is happier than I !" 
Time stands nor stops upon her ordered run ! 
But century cars, drawn by the engine sun. 
Roll ever on, and on, till comes — the sea, 
And soundless ocean of Eternity. 
And so watched over by the star of fate, 
The Junes he'd joined were numbered thirty-eight, 
When on that buttressed bridge again he stood. 
While memory heaved his bosom with its flood : 
Then, bending o'er the parapet anew. 
He carved these lines beneath the other two : — 
*'No deer, stricken sore, 

Of care hath known more." 
Then fetched a sigh, as one does in a dream, 
And flung th' ofl'ending blade into the stream, 
For lo ! hard by he spied another lad, 
Dreaming the self-same dreams he once had had. 



TO A BUTTERFLY. 

HAIL ! happy creature. 
Fluttering so tamely, - 
With thy wings yellow. 
Each like its fellow. 
Beauty I name thee. 



74 So7tgs of the Susquehanna 

(Bear' St thou a message 

From some far sphere ? 
Art thou a blossom 
Plucked from Love's bosom, 
Toss'd to me here?) 

Prithee, my pretty, 

Where would' st thou wander? 
Be it to dairy-land, 
Forest or fairy -land, 

Or the swamp yonder ? 

Stay thy gay twitterings. 

Bright little being ; 
Rest until eventide 
Spills o'er the mountainside 
Views worth the seeing. 

What is thy hurry, 

Dreamer so shy ? 
Hie not from near me, 
Fly not nor fear me. 

Dreamer am I. 

Best gift of springtime. 
Queen of the morn ; 
Sunbeams they hatched thee. 
Moonbeams they watched thee, 
When thou wert born. 



Songs of the S^isquehanna 75 

Teach me thy language, 

Beautiful spirit ; 
Could I but know it, 
I'd be a poet — 

Or come very near it. 

Brief be thy journey. 

Air-dancer, fay ! 
Haply to-morrow 
Thou' It reap with sorrow 

Joys sown to-day. 

But, such the lesson 

Thou dost impart. 
Each human being 
Will upon seeing 

Take it to heart. 

O, my enamorer ! 

Rover so coy ! 
All of thy actions 
Serve as attractions 

Fining my joy. 

What ! art thou really 

Hurrying so soon ? 
Well, thou hast given 
Bliss will till even 

Bide as a boon. 



76 Sojtgs of the Susquehanna 

Go thy way lightly 

Then, little fay ; 
Steering thy shadow 
Safe o'er life's meadow, — 

Happy and gay. 



THE MAIDEN AND THE THRUSH. 

O'ER orchards bedight 
With blossoms so light, 
The wind in a frolic sun-darted. 
Flew here and flew there 
Through the sweet-scented air. 
Till a maiden caught at it light-hearted. 

And gathering her joys 

To a fine crested poise, 
She sang — and her heart overflowing. 

It flooded the vales 

With such musical gales. 
That the harvest-hands paused at their mowing. 

She sang of the bees. 

And the moss-matted trees. 
Of the morn and the love-shielding dark. 

When lo ! from the grove. 

Where the red-foxes rove. 
Came another enchanter — O hark ! 



Songs of the Susquehanna 77 

'Tis the Angel of Peace 
Singing fair earth's increase, 
And the voice is the voice of the thrush : — 
Sing, maiden ; and sing, 
O voice on the wing, 
Till my voice out of dreamland cries — hush ! 



AT MIDNIGHT HOUR. 

THE clock ticks on, — the antique shelf, 
Besides two fourteenth century urns, 
Is ranged with bric-a-brac and delf. 

O'er which droop plumes of scented ferns. 

The lamp burns low, — the gloom opaque. 
That threats the light — so bold it grows. 

From very fear the fire I rake. 

Which for the instant gleams and glows. 

The kettle croons — the kitten plays ; 

While stretched upon the rug hard by. 
The house-dog, faithful beyond praise, 

Sleeps lightly with an unshut eye. 

The clock ticks on, — it smites the ear 
Like smothered yells or shouted talk, — 

For lo, behold ! the time draws near 
For graves to yawn, for ghosts to walk. 



78 Songs of the Susquehamia 

The mid-hour strikes, — and far away, 
Ere mine one-half her twelve has spent, 

I hear the bells another day 

Proclaim through Night's dark continent. 

But only the moon and the solemn stars, 
And the watchman standing on the street, 

And the soldiers hasting to the wars. 
Its final entrance shall stay to greet. 



THE PRESENT ENOUGH. 

ENOUGH and to spare is the Present, let the future 
take care of itself ! 
Away with this hunger and longing, this craving for 

gain and for pelf, — 
Let the heart of my heart be the witness that the deeds 

I have done and can do 
Are linked by no care of the present, are joined by no 
rootlets of rue. 

For what is the man and his money but landlord and 

tenant at best ! 
And what are those dreams of ambition but demons to 

rob him of rest ! 
So where is the use of repining, of grieving year out and 

year in, 
When only a grave at life's ending is all that the bravest 

can win ? 



Songs of the Siisquehanna 79 

Then speed me a song that is silvern, sung out by a 

heart that is gold, 
And I'll yield you my right to the riches the brightest 

of futures can hold ; 
And I'll deed you the sweetest of visions I ever beheld 

upon earth, 
For the right to enjoy with each season, its fullness of 

candor and worth. 



ZELEBEL. 



IN a land of sun and shadow. 
Legends tell ! 
Once there dwelt a lovely maiden 

In a dell ; 
Just beneath a snow -clad mountain, 
Where an ever-flowing fountain 
Rose and fell, rose and fell. 

Pure and gentle was she ever, 

Zelebel ! 
But her heart confessed a lover, 

Truth to tell ; 
And when to his voice she'd listen. 
With delight her eyes would glisten, 
Like a shell, dripping well. 



8o Songs of the Susquehanna 

But alas ! the rose -bloom faded, 

Sad to tell ; 
And the lilies o'er her temples 

Lightly fell ; 
And from earth the angels bore her, 
As the light of lights came o'er her 
With its spell, with its spell. 

And no more her love-notes mingle — 

Zelebel ! 
With her kinsfolk o'er the dingle. 

Or the well : 
From that day, the crystal fountain. 
No more flowing from the mountain. 
Rose and fell, rose and fell. 



GIVE ALL TO FAITH. 

AS in some stagnant fen that lean snakes live in — 
Where wet moss drips o'er pools that trembling lie, 
Soul -worried stags from unsunned places driven 
Stand round perplexed, if best to stay or fly, — 
So through this life's dull round, embayed with sorrow, 
Engulfed with grief, oppressed with nameless ills. 
Till each to-day seems but a young to-morrow — 
That to the brim with dread our flagon fills 
We stagger on. Yet we whom fond hopes have 



Songs of the Susquehanna 

In no wise sundered from, through sin-fogged air 
Find out our way, or stem the mystic wave 
That leads men on to madness and despair ; — 
Then,' lifting Faith's pure-burning torch on high, 
With girded loins, and brows untouched of fear. 
We labor through the gloom with argent eye. 
Unmindful of the foes that dog our rear. 



FORMER PASTIMES. 

WHEN snows lie heaped upon the hills 
And fiercer grows the gale, 
'Tis then, in reminiscent thrills, 
I plod o'er Memory's vale ; — 
I traverse all those pleasures, then, 
Youth's whirlwind days begot, — 
Till, thinking o'er past times again, 
The Present seems forgot. 

Now mount I Pegasus, whose back. 

Far weightier loads has borne ; 
And swift we course along the track 

The hurrying years have worn ; 
And now the steed has slackened speed, 

And now I note the house 
That all my memory doth feed, — 

My sleeping joys arouse. 



82 So?igs of the Susquehanna 

'Twas there I felt my first great loss, 

But soothed by my dear mother, 
I manfully took up my cross, 

And left the breast for brother ; 
And when the boys came, one by one, 

Like blossoms dropped to cheer 
The household just as I had done — 

Away ! thou saddening tear ! 

'Twas then our wont to roam at large. 

Like bisons on the plains, — 
Or like wild Indians that charge 

Upon lone wagon trains ; 
We woke the echoes where they slept. 

And chased the warrior bee. 
And felt the rapier that it kept 

To tame our martial glee. 

And when, athwart the summer sky, 

The fierce meridian sun 
Poured down his glories and made dry 

The horse-pond and the run. 
We used to seek the old mill stream, 

And angle from its shore. 
Or watch the romping ripples gleam 

Where stones its surface tore. 

Upon those banks where verdure teems. 
The sun his rigor tames. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 83 

I revelled in youth's callow themes 

And dropped to childish games. 
I bathed my free aspiring limbs 

In many a limpid pool, — 
And when will I forget the hymns 

We scholars sung in school ? 

I was a careless youngster then, 

And not too good, I fear, — 
Yet to those years I turn my ken, 

And greet them with a tear : 
And O, how many are the times 

While rhyming with my pen, 
I would the parting years were rhymes, 

And I that boy again ! 



SUMMER IS COME. 

SUMMER is come, now the cool days are over. 
The wheat -fields are glowing, the chedee's in 
song; 
Amid the tall ranks of the crimson -tipped clover 
The daisy and thistle nod all the day long. 

The plowboy now whistles ; no more at the handles 
He follows the furrows from daylight till dark ; 

But with a stout fish pole, no need he for sandals, 
He hies to the brookside as gay as a lark. 



84 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Perfumed with the breath of the amorous flowers, 
The grove -haunting lovers unweariedly stroll ; 

While Nature, attuned by the Heavenly Powers, 

Sings wondrously sweet from the depths of her soul. 



NATURE'S SONG. 



BLOW, gentle breeze, among the trees, 
Sing, wakeful bees, your monodies ; 
Send to the flowers your bounteous showers, 
O clouds that sail th' aerial seas ! 
To eyes that weep, bring soothing sleep. 
Ye airs that murmur o'er the deep ! 
Come swan -like Ease and bring surcease 
Of care to hearts that long for peace ! 
And when this way. Dearth, thou dost stray. 
To take my Precious Ones away. 
Come softly as the showers of May, — 
And on thy breast bear each to rest, 
As sinks the bird on evening nest. 
In blissful Bowers of the Blest. 



A SPRING MORNING IN THE COUNTRY. 

THE morning breaks o'er lawns and lakes, 
And through the dewy atmosphere 
The feathered throngs pour such sweet songs. 
The plowman stops entranced to hear. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 85 

Each chimney solemn sends up a column 

Of smoke toward the firmament 
In goodly store, like that before 

The Children of Israel went. 

The cattle low, the roosters crow. 

The watch dog yelps and clinks his chain. 

The coted dove coos forth its love. 
And Echo answers from the lane. 

To th' eager skies thin vapors rise, 

As prayers to Heaven ascend ; 
The blithe buds raise their lids and gaze 

As children gaze at some loved friend. 

The clouds, sun-kissed, blush through the mist, 
Like modest brides or bashful maids ; 

The airs that stir are sweet as myrrh 

With scent of flowers that gem the glades. 

The village bell flings o'er the dell 
A summons to the slumbering town, — 

The night's grim shadows forsake the meadows, 
But still within the hollows frown. 

In barns and stables, with well-filled gables, 
The meek cows yield their milky stores ; 

The shepherd leads his flock to the meads, 
And thinks of her whom he adores. 



86 So7igs of the Susquehanna 

The mirth of childhood rings through the wildwood, 
Where birch and early wild flowers grow ; 

And now that goodman, the sturdy woodman, 
His axe is swinging with blow on blow. 

From orchard trees the hum of bees 

Steals in a murmurous monotone ; 
Through the wet grass strange insects pass, 

On duties bent, to us unknown. 

The school-bell rings ; the urchin flings 
All thoughts of strength' ning sports aside ; 

The babbling brooks give way to books, 
And Day her gates has opened wide. 



THE WATER LILY. 

THE far-famed violets are fair, 
That burst their buds in May ; 
The Quaker Ladies, too, shall share 

My plenteous praise alway ; 
But O, the flowers I hold supreme, 

All other tribes above, 
The water lilies I esteem. 
That mind me of my Love ! 

Some sing the daisies that the sod 
With rich profusion strew ; 

And some the aster-crowns that nod 
Where late the roses grew ; 



Songs of the Susquehanna 87 

Each flower that tempts the roving bee, 

Some fond affections wake, — 
But while I live, O give to me, 

The lilies of the lake ! 

For when the meadowlands were bright 

With many a flower there, 
I found my loved one in a plight. 

And kissed away her care ; 
Then ere I could her purpose tell, 

Her thoughts quick-threshed divine, 
Her hand had culled a lily-bell, 

And pressed it into mine. 

But ere a month had worn away 

She faded with the flowers, — 
And nevermore shall with me stray 

In saunt'ring, sunny hours; 
So now the blooms she loved to wear, 

Ere Death tore us apart, 
I cherish, and no power might tear 

Those emblems from my heart. 



THE UNKNOWN DEAD. 

WHEN th' air was swelled with Music's sound. 
And sweet with flowers' breath. 
The ill -clad traveler's form was found, 
His eyes closed fast in death. 



88 Songs of the Susquehanna 

The sky -policing summer sun, 

Whose eye scans every place, 
A burning beam, far down the run, 

Sent o'er the dead man's face. 

The rocks that rose on his right side, 
With lichens rough o'erspread, 

Leaned down as though they fain would hide 
The features of the dead. 

Was it to shield some crime that he. 
The stranger, there should lie ? 

Or was it stern necessity 

That urged him there — to die ? 

Alas ! small use these questionings. 

Small aid the idle guess ; 
The ocean, with its thousand rings, 

Maintains its secrets less. 

We wis but that the forged steed. 

Encased in ribs of steel, 
Bore down upon him with such speed 

That he no pain did feel ; 

But that those cloudward towering crags. 

That ages' wave hath swept. 
Spared him no softer couch that sags. 

Nor life departing crept. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 89 

A Prussian Bible, thumbed and stained, 

Was folded to his breast, — 
The Word of God with him remained — 

That comfort of the blest. 

By what lone cot, in what last stage 

Of want or sickness, lie. 
Perhaps the hopes, the palsied age, 

That wakes nor sees him nigh. 

'Tis done ! they've rendered clay to clay. 

And o'er the rudest mound 
A painted board tells those who pray. 

His rest at least he's found. 



MY CHOICE. 



THE lordly Hudson rolls unchecked 
'Mid grandeur to the sea, 
The foaming Lehigh winds its way 
Through gorgeous scenery. 

The Susquehanna's kisses woo 

The bland Wyoming air. 
In rare majestic manner moves 

The historic Delaware. 

Yet none of these possess the charm 
The Schuylkill holds for me \ 



90 Songs of the SusqueJianna 

And while its face reflects the sky, 
This ne'er will changed be. 

For fast beside its tree-fringed bank, 

Upon an eminence, 
'Mid flowers and vines my Emma lives, 

In spotless innocence. 

And there I wander ever free, 

In fancy or in fact, 
And if I'd claim a kiss in fee, 

Who'd blame me for the act? 

For I am hers by law divine. 
And Love, that archer clever. 

Has whispered that her heart is mine. 
To have and hold forever. 

And so, dear Lord, when watchful stars 
From out their eyelids peep, 

I pray you set an angel guard. 
To sentinel her sleep. 



TO THE SUSQUEHANNA RIVER. 

O SUSQUEHANNA, placid stream ! 
O river, clear and wide ! 
How like the current of a dream 
Thy sparkling waters glide. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 91 

Upon thy banks no shipyards stand, 

Nor ever on thee float 
Proud men-of-war, equipped and manned. 

On which the seamen dote. 

But forests skirt along thy sides, 

And hills and fruitful farms ; 
And rills rush into thee like brides 

Into their lovers' arms. 

Along thy borders grow fair flow'rs. 

And there their feathers preen 
Full many a flock in sunny hours. 

By sportsmen's eyes unseen. 

Within thy cool pellucid deeps 

His sides the salmon shows ; 
And where thy silvery current sleeps 

The hawk his shadow throws ; 

And when the summer's reign has come, 

With all its heat and glare. 
Along thy banks fond lovers roam. 

Nor fail to find thee fair. 

And Susquehanna ! when the West, 

In happy autumn days, 
Lights up his Islands of the Blest, 

To see thee is to praise. 



92 Songs of the Susquehanna 

And I do praise thee, and the homes 

That stand upon thy shore ; 
And as each circHng season comes, 

I love thee more and more. 

And if one wish I may be given — 

'Tis this, O river wide ! 
That when my summons comes from heaven, 

'Twill find me near thy tide, 

For here beside thy winding wave 

I lost my bosom's treasure ; 
And now between us lies a grave — 

That sanctifies my pleasure. 



DESIRE AND FULFILLMENT. 

DESIRE like passing rain-cloud 
Moves stilly o'er the earth, 
But when it meets Fulfillment 
It loses half its worth. 

'Tis so with all our race in common, — 
Man woos an angel, and weds — a woman ! 
While woman sets forth with rouge and fan, 
And wins a hero, and weds — a man ! 



Songs of the Susquehanna 93 

SAME SUBJECT. 

DESIRE conjoined with passion 
Stalks rampant o'er the earth, — 
Till lo ! it meets Fulfillment, 

Then dies, and with it Mirth, 
But leaves Remorse its scion. 
To wish it ne'er had birth. 



PAYING TRIBUTE. 

THE clouds pay tribute to the soil. 
Which tribute pays to all who toil, — 
While they pay Him, of all the Giver, — 
And so the ring goes round forever. 



THE REMORSE OF HANNAH MOORE. 

IN a valley shadow laden. 
That the moonlight brooded o'er, 
Once there dwelt a winsome maiden. 

By the name of Hannah Moore. 
Fair she was, and pure and holy, 

And of guile she showed no trace, 
But a settled melancholy 

Marred the beauty of her face. 



94 Songs of the Siisquehanna 

Often had I longed to meet her — 

Not as ships meet passing ships, 
But to know her and to greet her, 

Learn her story from her lips; 
Finally by fortune aided, 

Or a friend's obliging wife, 
I the mystery invaded. 

That o'erhung her fair young life ; 
She'd been courted, late and early. 

By an artist in the town, 
Who tho' often curt and surly. 

Loved her as he loved renown ; 
But tho' oft his love he'd spoken. 

She would never give the word 
That his soul so craved — the token 

That her heart with love was stirred ; 
Still he wooed her, ne'er repining. 

Thinking some glad day, at least, 
He would feel her head reclining 

On his love-tormented breast. 
Thus things stood till bright in Maytime, 

When the buds began to swell. 
And the birds announced 'twas playtime 

By their twitterings in the dell. 
When the lover, wan with waiting. 

Cast aside fear's galling yoke. 
And one eve at wicket's grating. 

Thus the spell of silence broke : 
'* Hannah," said he, ''long I've wooed you, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 95 

Long I've loved but you alone, 
Often for your love I've sued you, 

Yet but speechless love you've shown; 
Now the jesting time's behind you, 

Bring me bliss or bitter pain. 
To some answer I must bind you, — 

Say 'tis yes, dear; speak it plain." 
Here he stooped and would have kissed her. 

But she said : ''It may not be ! 
I will be to you a sister. 

You a brother unto me." 
Then it was his soul grew stronger, 

From her side and sight he went, — 
Had he stayed one heart-beat longer, 

Things might have been different. 
When he'd vanished in the shadows. 

And she lingered there alone, 
From her breast, like wind o'er meadows, 

There arose a wailing moan. 
Then unto herself she muttered. 

As her bosom heaved and fell, 
** Those were only words I uttered. 

Now I see I loved him well ; 
But he'll seek me on the morrow, 

As he's done so oft before, — " 
But alas ! to Hannah's sorrow. 

He returned again no more. 
Long for him she yearned and waited. 

Long she kept her heart-fires warm, 



g6 Songs of the Susquehanna 

But the birds again had mated, 

And the bees began to swarm ; 
Still no word from her lost lover 

At her cottage door arrived, 
Till one day there came a rover, 

Who in distant lands had lived, 
And he told a touching story 

Of an artist he had seen 
Dying on the field of glory 

In a Levantme ravine. 
Here he opened wide his pocket. 

And its depths did long explore. 
Then he handed forth a locket. 

Saying: ^^Take it, Hannah Moore 
Weary miles I've come to find you. 

But his love for you was rare ; 
Now permit me to remind you. 

Love's not meant for idle wear ; — 
Hold it sacred or restore it 

That it may be given again, 
Scathless, to some one who'll for it 

Brave all dangers, bear all pain." 
So I learned the painful story 

Of this fair young creature's life : — 
Better, tho', to die for glory, 

Than to win a fickle wife. 



Songs of the SusqueJianna 97 

A PASSING MOOD. 

I HAD a mood one summer's day, 
What time the hills I cruised ; 
All conscious care I'd cast away, 
And as in prayer I mused ; 

The atmosphere is pure and sweet, 

And in the crystal sky 
The milk-white clouds, like some fair fleet. 
At anchor seem to lie. 

The landscape with its rambling brook. 

And shade-trees scattered o'er. 
Has surely just as fair a look 

As happy Eden wore. 

The river, ruffled by the breeze 

That loiters o'er the stream, 
Seems only such as fancy sees — 

The river of a dream ! 

The warblers trilling to their mates. 

In faultless fashion drest, 
Bring me more near to Heaven's gates. 

And city of the blest. 

The vines that decorate these heights, 

And all the wildwood flowers. 
Are but the foretastes of delights 

Found in immortal bowers. 

7 



Songs of the Susquehanna 

Yet these and I, and the hills whereon 

I dream the hours away, 
Are each and all the work of One 

Whose will we must obey. 

The mood then changed. I breathed a prayer, 

And felt my soul grow strong, — 
For while my mind was purged of care. 

My heart was swelled with song. 



THE OLD CHURCH BELL. 

HIGH up o'er the heads of the people 
That pass like vague ships on the street. 
It hangs in its home in the steeple. 

That throbs with the wind's rhythmic beat ; 
What heeds it the world or its noises ? 
What recks it of traffic's loud din ? 
Of tears, or the clamor of voices 

That speak of the light hearts within ? 

Enough that its duty is ringing 

In every condition of weather. 
Enough that its mission is bringing 

The spiritual household together ; 
Enough that it strikes for the hours 

That speed in a ne'er-ending chain, 
And chimes over nuptial flowers,. 

And tolls for the funeral train. , , 



Songs of the Susquehanna 99 

Enough that it speaks to the mothers 

In clear, unmistakable tones, 
And fathers and sisters and brothers. 

From all the earth's populous zones; 
Enough that it brings to the altar 

The ones who have strayed from the truth, 
As well as the weak ones who falter 

'Mid trials unknown in their youth. 

So there, while the pale stars are marching, 

And rivers roll on to the sea, 
And Heaven's blue vault is o'erarching. 

The bell in its belfry will be ; 
And then, when its mission is ended. 

And turned is the last burial sod. 
Its echoes, full-toned, will be blended 

With trumpets that call us to God. 



THE VISION. 



I SAT in a doze at evening's close, one night, in my 
easy -chair, 
When a dream, or vision, that seemed elysian, came 

down through the viewless air. 
And wooed my fancy with necromancy, so skilfully, 

subtly dealt, 
That all things of stone, e'en flesh and bone, into 
vapor seemed to melt, — 

I. of a 



lOO Songs of the Susquehanna 

And lo ! through the night, as a soul in flight, or a ray 

of light will pass, 
I seemed transported, or rather escorted, to a region 

clothed with grass ; 
And there I saw moving, with no one reproving, a 

legion of radiant forms. 
Like to clouds that wander, in the welkin yonder, when 

the firmament's free from storms. 

And soon I was seated, and forthwith greeted, by 

friends I had known down here, 
And I smiled, though faintly, as I saw the face saintly, 

of one 1 had held most dear ; 
And when she beckoned I tarried no second, but, clasp- 
ing her outstretched hand, 
I peacefully followed her countenance hallowed about 

o'er that heavenly strand : 
She showed me a river, with sunshine a-quiver, that 

sprang from the foot of the throne. 
And led me through bowers where ambrosial flowers in 

richest profusion were sown, 
Then into fair meadows, where never grim shadows, or 

grimmer contestants stirred, 
But birds of all feather were singing together in praise 

of the throned Word ; 

And then we wandered where streams meandered 
through groves so transcendently sweet, 

I willed there to stay, but she drew me away, and we 
passed down a noble street 



Songs of the Susquehanna loi 

With pavement all gold, no dust to behold, and as 

broad as our streets are long, 
And through which forever a gentle zephyr murmured a 

murmurous song ; 
While seraphs in myriads, at stated periods, through 

this arrowy causeway went, 
Leaving a flavor, or rather a savor, behind them of 

calm content. 

And then we straightway approached a gateway of such 

rare magnificence. 
No language of mine, however fine, could picture its 

elegance ; 
'Twas formed in three parts, like three distinct hearts, 

and of clear white marble framed. 
And its spans so wide were, no need for guide were, to 

traverse its passages famed, — 
Above its high centre, where chariots enter, was poised 

an effulgent dome, 
Upon whose deep coping, in characters sloping, was 

sculptured the name of Home. 

Then came a bright angel, with God's evangel, with 

willowy sweep of wing, 
And breathed such sweet words as only the birds or 

Heaven-taught sages sing ; 
But so thrilled me his glance that I sank in a trance, 

from which I emerged, alas ! 
To "find I had rolled from that region of gold to this 

tawdry one of brass, — 



102 Songs of the Susquehanna 

And I wept to think that the sweet, sweet link to that 

loftier life was broken, 
Like hint of love given, that lifts us tow'rd heaven, but 

vanishes ere it is spoken. 



THE PASSING TEMPEST. 

HARK ! 'tis day's last knell— and lo ! 
Thro' the breathless voids of air. 
With his horned hoofs of woe 

Comes the tempest from his lair ; 
See ! like some rude beast he rears. 
Veiling heaven and earth in tears. 

Mark his ruin ! from his train. 

What a devastation springs. 
As with strides that rend the plain 

His red scythe he roundly swings — 
Now, than all things else more fleet. 
Off he scatters in retreat ! 

Yes, O wind ! with garments tatter' d. 

And in nakedness unchaste, 
Earth, tho' leaguer' d and some shatter' d. 

Spurns thy fire-arm' d hosts at last — 
Where in feeblest spite thou' It rage 
Thro' Night's frost-Ht hermitage. 



Songs of the Siisqitehanna 103 

And the heavens ! star-ey'd globe !— 
Fast behind their purpling screen, 

Shrouded as in ghostly robe, 
Pale brow'd Nemesis is seen : 

Now 'tis parting, and her face 

By sheet -Hghtning we may trace. 

Tho' but one short instant rifted, 

As a curtain deftly drawn, 
'Tis sufficient for the gifted 

To detect and muse upon ; 
And good sooth 'tis now engraven 
On my heart as snow on raven. 

Now the tide of rain is lower, 

And more soft the mists are curling ; 

While along the Heavenly Power 

Hesper's wings are straight unfurling — 

And the gath'ring shades in play 

Bind the eyes of sov' reign day. 

Hark ! ere all aloft shall darken, 

Ere the dripping leaves be mute. 
Let us to the redbreast hearken. 

Piping sweet his sylvan lute ; 
Oh ! could human speech so flow. 
We'd soon cleave yon mists as thou ! 

Now he hies— in flight contending, 
And his notes with him take wing. 



104 Songs of the SusqiieJianna 

And the starry vault descending 

Shelters out the darling thing — 
And would that to me might pour 
This night's longings — nevermore ! 



THE STRANGE FRIENDSHIP OF JOHN 
LONG AND TUPENNY SHORT. 

YOU doubtless have all heard the story, for often 
enough it's been told, 
About the strange friendship that lasted so long, in the 

centuries old, 
Twixt Paul and Virginia, the lovers who loved with a 

passion so strong. 
That down through the ages their story has traveled in 
sermon and song. 

Now I know a far stranger story than any of previous 

report, 
'Tis about the strange bond that existed 'twixt John 

Long and Tupenny Short ; 
And if a brief space your attention, in a quiescent state 

I can hold, 
Without any tedious preamble this singular tale I'll 

unfold. 

Now, when these two friends were still youngsters, and 
went to the same village school, 



Songs of the Siisqitehanna 105 

They were dubbed by the boys "The Exceptions," be- 
cause, as opposed to all rule. 

The one was so thrifty in growing, he always seemed 
ready to fall, 

While the other was so dilatory, he never seemed grow- 
ing at all : 

And as they were always together, like the hair and the 
hide on a hound, 

A better example, I'm sure, of disparity couldn't be 
found. 

And so they grew up into manhood and past their boys' 

follies and tricks— 
This giant of six foot eleven, and midget of four foot 

six. 
And now comes the funniest feature of all in this strange 

story's cup ; 
'Tis how this same giant of fairness endeavored to even 

things up : 
For when they would meet, after meeting, the maidens 

who'd go there to pray, 
John Long would look down at his comrade, and then 

he'd quite gallantly say : 
"I'll take the short gal, if you're willin', you grapple 

the taller one. Tup ! ' ' 
And then they would walk on together, and so he would 

even things up. 

At last they resolved on a journey, so bidding their 
townsmen farewell, 



Io6 Songs of the Susquehanna 

They took up their baggage and started, cheered on by 

the meeting-house bell ; 
But contrary to most folks who travel, these two had no 

feuds on their road, 
Because of the spirit of fairness this giant incessantly 

showed — 
So when they would come in their wand' rings, at night, 

to some lone wayside inn, 
And find one great bed and a crib in their room, John 

would stoop, scratch his chin. 
Then say : ''I'll repose in the crib here, you tackle the 

family bed. Tup !" 
And then he would smile, like a fairy — and so he would 

even things up. 

And when on a jaunt through the mountains, or down 

some long, winding ravines. 
Where horses or ponies were needed, John Long would 

soon furnish the means 
For one of the loftiest horses that money or cunning 

could get, 
And one of the funniest ponies ol' Nature e'er made as 

a bet ; 
And then he would eye their proportions, while they 

were cavorting around. 
And, slapping his friend on the shoulder, he'd say : 

'' These are critters we've found ! 
I'll saddle myself on the pony, you wrassle the bigger 

hoss. Tup !" 



So7igs of the Susquehanna 107 

And then he would beam and be merry, and so he 
would even things up. 

But finally one day on their travels, while crossing the 

desolate plains, 
They heard a strange clamor of noises, and soon all the 

blood in their veins 
Had curdled like milk in the dairy when thunder rolls 

round in the sky — 
For men can scent danger like horses, and stand ever 

ready to fly. 
When only their lives are in question, and so with 

cheek blanched with fear 
John shouted, ''The wolves are upon us ! then seeing 

two trees which stood near. 
He said: ''You run for the maple, I'll tackle that 

sapUn' there, Tup!" 
And again the bright angel recorded, "Once more he 

has evened things up ! ' ' 
But while a safe perch in the maple young Tupenny 

readily found. 
Poor John's greater weight bent the sapling till it and 

its load touched the ground ; 
Now wolves are but wolves, and the maple they could 

not ascend to poor Tup, 
But John Long was pleased when they seized him, to 

think how he'd evened things up ! 



io8 Songs of the StisqiieJianna 

A MEMORY PICTURE. 

I'M sitting all alone to-night, 
My study's cheer within, 
And viewing with fond mera'ry's eye 
The things that once have been. 

And while I gaze I seize my pen, 

And, as the moments flee, 
I give the mast' ring mood its rein 

And picture what I see. 

First there's a boy, in homespun clad. 

Who loves to lie supine 
Upon the grass that crowns the hills 

Where feed his father's kine. 

Or, seated on some river bank. 

He learns too soon to say : 
" The biggest fish I ever caught 

Was that that got away ! ' ' 

And now a youth usurps the scene, 
Who, clothed in riper guise. 

Draws from the world of books and men 
His thoughts of high emprise. 

And now across my mem'ry's glass 

With brimming eyes I see 
A lover and his lady pass 

Along a lover's lea. 



Songs of the Sjisquehanjia 109 

And now the scene once more has changed, 

And wheeling into view, 
An altar shows — and is it strange 

That I should be there, too ? 

And she, the one I love so well. 

Should stand there by my side ? 
Or that I soon her lord will be, 

And she my bonny bride ? 

And now another scene I see. 

And other forms behold ; 
Here stands a toddler at my knee — 

A lad of sturdy mould. 

And yonder, with her mamma's brow, 

A fair-haired girl appears. 
And who, the likeness to complete, 

Has just her mamma's ears. 

Ah, if I here my pen might stay. 

Or bid the scene to stand, 
I would not change my happy lot 

For any in the land. 

But no ! the mood that bade me write 

Yet binds me to my task. 
And from the dead face of the past 

Still lifts the sliding mask. 

The scene then shifts, and like those drifts 
One meets in gulfs and bays, 



no Songs of the Susquehanna 

The wreckage of my life is strewn 
About its windy ways. 

For in a casket lieth one 

That ruled my heart with love, 

And checked me with a gentle hand 
When I'd a mind to rove. 

And so I sit alone to-night, 
Nor heed the world's loud din. 

But view, by aid of mem'ry's lamp. 
The things that once have been. 



THE BETTER WAY. 

A PILGRIM who had gone astray 
Once in a desert stood. 
And questioned of the winds his way 
Across that solitude. 

The winds, unheeding, passed him by. 
On their own pleasures bent — 

For winds, you know, are strong and spry. 
But he was frail and spent. 

His long, gaunt arms and withered hands 

Hung helpless at his sides. 
His eyes were blazing firebrands — 

Their lids mere brazen slides. 



Sojigs of the Siisqneha7ina 1 1 1 

His face was weazened, pinched and wan, 

With skin of hue so dull. 
You'd think it parchment stretched upon 

Some horrid grinning skull. 

The sky a fire- swathed tract was spread 

Before his longing gaze. 
From whence the sun poured on his head 

Its sheaf of living rays. 

He moved, a snail-paced, hideous thing. 

Along that arid waste, — 
A speck within a quivering ring. 

That Death around had placed. 

And ever and anon a cry 

Would leave his shrunken lips. 
As fancy painted in the sky 

The forms of trees and ships. 

At last, when every hope had flown 

That Nature's plan could give. 
He flung himself upon a stone, 

Like one who scorns to live. 

But as he lay, what was it cast 

The scales from off his eyes ? 
I know not — but he knelt in haste, 

And looked up to the skies. 



1 1 2 So)igs of tlie SiisqiLcJianna 

And then, '' O, Lord, look down," he prayed, 

'* Upon thy sinning child, 
Who from thy fold so far hath strayed. 

O'er trackless wastes and wild. 

' ' Turn on me thy dear countenance. 

Nor hold from me thy grace ; 
Afford, I pray, yet one more chance 

To gain thy dwelling-place. 

''And if my prayer. Lord, yet may find 

Some favor in thy sight, 
Give me the strength, dear Saviour kind, 

To reach my home to-night ! ' ' 

Then as he ended, lo ! he rose. 
And with the clouds conferred. 

And soon as hawk the King's will knows, 
He knew his prayer was heard. 

Across the sands like spectre grim, 
Once more he dragged along — 

But cheered by Heaven's seraphim, 
His heart was light and strong. 

And guided by God's hand, he came 

At last to his own home — 
And lived a life as free from blame 

As ponds are free from foam. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 1 1 3 

And from this tale might we not learn 

A wholesome lesson — say ? — 
Then when we're wandering, let us turn, 

And seek the better way. 



HOW I SPENT THE DAY WITH NATURE. 

WHEN the winds are all hushed and the solemn 
wood still. 
And no sound is upborne from the many-hued rill. 
And the sun over all pours his merriest rays, 
'Tis the time of all times to observe Nature's ways. 

I had oft heard it stated, and with naught else to do. 
On a certain bright day, for an hour or two, 
I made bold to go forth— which were well, I dare say, 
Had the devil not first intercepted my way. 

Now the devil, you know, if you know aught about it, 
To give him his due, though he'll not do without it, 
Is a boon of companions, a fellow well met. 
And you never knew him to forsake a friend yet. 

So, now, if you'll listen sans mentioning place, 
I'll acquaint you in season how I fell from high grace, 
And the moral you'll find, if a sign there's within it. 
Is contained in the meaning you will see yourself in it, 

8 



114 So?igs of the Susquehanna 

I had passed through the garden and out by the gap 
That a storm in the fence had left there by mishap, 
When, consulting my timepiece, an open-faced lie 
Stared straight from its dial -plate into mine eye. 

Which was proof, and conclusive, as the lawyers might 

say. 
If I'd have correct time, and what's more, on that day, 
Why I first, nothing plainer, must instantly hie 
To a practical jeweler's, which I saw one hard by. 

But lo ! as I drew near the hostelry, kept by mine host, 
The good Father Fairdemon — called so by most. 
Whom there should I spy, with his painstaking smile, 
But that jolly dog, Lothair — whom to see was worth 
while. 

Well, of course, I had met him — we had met in the!war, 
Peradventure, or haply had faced the same star 
On a first night in Italy, where classical air 
Breathed sweetly upon us from lips of the fair. 

Or mayhap in England, where broad life is seen. 
In a royal rich splendor, on a lawn painted greenj 
Or Paris, where Neros in miniature dwell, 
In a bedlam of clamor, like bees in a bell. 

We had chatted awhile, in an intimate way. 
About this, about that, as a shuttle might play. 
When ho ! on the tapis whom then should appear 
But the innkeeper's self, from his wine-cellar near. 



So7tgs of the StisqticJianna 115 

To the which we repaired in a moment or more, 
Where we sampled, unsparing, the vine's juicy store. 
Well, we finally parted, went headlong, one scribe 
Was so bold as to shape us in print, for a gibe. 

But what then of Nature? you'll ask — of the skies, 
And their new world of wonders that speak to one's eyes? 
You ask me — alas ! O, that demon of drink ! 
When I took my departure, the skies were like ink. 



THE CHORISTER'S HEROISM. 

YOU all have heard the stories 
Of men who kept their posts, 
In circumstances trying. 

On rivers, seas and coasts ; 
But I have one will equal. 

In duty done at least. 
The notablest example 

Of South, or West, or East. 

'Twas on a Christmas morning, 
Within a crowded church ; 

No single seat was vacant, 

No matter where you'd search ; 

The choir had finished singing 
In praise of Heaven's King, 



1 16 Songs of the Susquehanna 

And a young fair-haired maiden 
Had just stood up to sing, 

When lo I with look of horror, 

And cheek of paUid hue, 
She saw her ailing mother 

Fall fainting in her pew ; 
Then did she rush down heedless, 

With thoughts on love engrossed? 
Ah, no ! for duty chained her. 

She staid there at her post. 

And as they bore her mother 

So deathlike through the throng. 
She sang the words of healing, 

In accents clear and strong ; 
And till she'd finally finished. 

And vanished down the stairs. 
Remained that breathless choir 

Transfixed upon their chairs. 

Now ye who braved in battle 

The minie ball's loud hiss, — 
Saw countless deeds of daring, — 

What think ye, men, of this ? 
Yet she was but a woman. 

And had a woman's heart. 
But love gave way to duty — 

She staid and took her part. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 1 1 7 

BLOW, WIND, BLOW ! 

BLOW, wind, blow, o'er tracts of snow, 
To lands of Lap and Esquimau ! 
Bear, bear with thee, o'er the Polar Sea, 
All forms of pain and misery ; 
Take grief and care, and black despair. 
And lock them in those regions there ; 
Bear woe and hate, leave joy elate, 
And speed thee with thy dolorous freight ; 
Take wicked war in thy unseen car. 
And waft it to some far off star. 
Where nevermore its awful roar 
Will reach us on this earthly shore ; — 
Blow wrongs away from realms of Day, 
But bid fair Peace and Pleasure stay ; 
Take doleful moans, and sighs and groans. 
And drown them with the cataract's tones ; 
But leave fond Hope her way to grope 
Alone up Time's sin-darkened slope ; 
Blow death to tears, and human fears, — 
Blow life to love, and all that cheers, — 
Lift from the mind of human kind 
All blame that chafes, all doubts that blind ! 
Rid this dear land of ills at hand. 
And those yet lurking in the sand ; 
Take on thy wings all Trusts and Rings, 
And chain them where the mermaid sings. 
Now blow, wind, blow ! — yet do not so 



Il8 Songs of the SiisqueJiaiina 

Ere one word more I've whispered low : 
If in thy flight to Land of Night, 
Thou meet' St her whom I love as light^ 
Say in her ear, so she can hear : 
'*Thy lover sends thee greetings, dear ! 
And sends a kiss to seal his bliss, — 
And this, and this, and this, and this ! ' ' 



THE ASTER. 



WHEN leaves lay thick beside the rill, 
And Autumn's skies were hazy, 
I found thee, aster, blooming still, 
Beside the ox-eyed daisy. 

The golden-rod's dismantled plume 
The spiteful winds were driving, 

But in the dull November gloom 
I found thee well and thriving. 

And tho' the gentian long had slept 

In mem'ry's tender bosom, 
I thank the tempered winds that swept 

So harmless o'er thy blossom. 

And tho' the wintry blasts full soon 

Bereft thee of thy splendor. 
Thou sang'st to me a flower tune, 

So sweet, so dear, so tender. 



Songs of the Susqtielianna 1 1 9 

Tho' I should live for fourscore years, 

With each recurring November, 
In spite of partings, griefs and tears, 

Our meeting I'll remember. 

For oh, thou taught' st me how to stand 

Adversity's advances, 
To smile beneath Fate's smiting hand — 

To brave Death's chilling glances. 

For this I love thee, and because 

Thy cheerful presence moved me 
To follow one of Nature's laws, 

And learn that Flora loved me. 

And now that Flora's gelid clay. 

Beneath the flowers is lying, 
I'll praise thee more till life's last day. 

And prize thee more when dying. 



THE SUSQUEHANNA'S PLAINT. 

O WEARY traveler hasting by. 
On toil or pleasure bent. 
Come, pause and rest thee here awhile. 
And list my humble plaint. 

It is no small or vulgar stream 
That deign' St to speak to thee, 

Else I had let thee hold thy way 
Unburdened by my plea. 



I20 Songs of the Susquehanna 

But such a river as could boast, 

In any land save this, 
A thousand bards to sing its charms. 

Nor deem their strains amiss. 

For I am stately, broad and long, 

And many a curve have I ; 
And O what isles bask in my smiles 

As I go dimpling by ! 

The blooms that to my kisses lean, 
Each spring since time begun, 

The hills I pass, the vales I drain, 
Can be surpassed by none. 

And yet, tho' Campbell touched my charms, 

And Whittier named me fair, 
Small meed of praise these breathless days 

Hath fallen to my share. 

And now, O traveler on thy way. 

Ere thou proceed' st along. 
One boon I crave, I ask but one, 

O give my name to song ! 

For tho' thou'rt bound to life's dull cares. 

Well, well can I discern 
Thou hast a soul above the things 

For which the sordid burn. 



Songs of the SusqiieJianna 121 

Thou grant' St my wish? Then thanks, O friend ! 

Long lease of life be thine ; 
And when thou'rt gone, may still thy fame 

Go hand in hand with mine. 

And may thy children's children come 

In twentieth century's prime. 
And read thy rhymes aloud to me 

That gave my name to Time. 



A LOVE SONG. 



I STAND by the window, love, my love, 
And watch the clouds go by. 
And watch the clouds go by, love. 
And watch the clouds go by. 
And my thoughts wander 
To thee, off yonder. 
In thy home 'neath the broad blue sky, love, 
In thy home 'neath the fair blue sky. 

But clouds are capricious, love, my love, 
And wander ever free. 
And wander ever free, love, 
And wander ever free ; 
They change their going 
With each wind's blowing — 
But in this they differ from thee, love, 
In this they differ from thee. 



122 So7igs of the Susquehanna 

And so I'm contented, love, my love, 
And know thou'rt true to me, 
And know thou'rt true to me, love. 
And know thou'rt true to me ; 
But when we're sundered, 
With fears I'm plundered, 
So I soon in thy presence will be, love, 
I soon in thy presence will be. 



BY THE RIVER. 



I STAND by the river, love my love. 
And watch the waters glide. 
And watch the waters glide, love. 
And watch the waters glide ; 
And as they hasten 
To Neptune's basin, 
They convey my soul on their tide, love. 
They convey my soul on their tide. 

For where the stream widens, love, my love, 
Lives one for whom I'd die. 
Lives one for whom I'd die, love, 
Lives one for whom I'd die ; 
And on her bosom 
I pinned a blossom. 
Ere I kissed her a fond good-bye, love. 
Ere I kissed her a fond good-bye. 



So7igs of the SusqiicJianna 123 

And thou art that maiden, love, my love, 
That made my world so fair, 
That made my world so fair, love. 
That made my world so fair ; 
So like this tide now. 
My thoughts they glide now, 
Toward thee and the ocean air, love, 
Toward thee and the ocean air. 



THE TRUE COURSE. 

WHAT ! quit the tasks I've once begun ! 
What ! leave to others to perform 
The deeds I planned at rise of sun ! 
The castle that I meant to storm. 

By worthier hands than mine be won ? 

Perish the thought ! Do Nature's braves 
Conduct themselves in such a wise ? 

Should heroes tremble? Opium's slaves 

Retain their gabardines of vice, 

And Nestors yield their posts to knaves ? 

Say rather that a larger zeal 

Shall each succeeding sun behold ; 

That each new turn of Life's dull wheel, 
Shall stamp my thoughts in ampler mold, 
And deeper wells of Truth reveal. 



124 Songs of the Susquehanna 

YES AND NO. 

YES and no ! no and yes ! 
How these words can ban or bless ! 
In the war of human hearts 
How they play their dual parts — 
Thrusting now, and now, apace, 
Parrying with a facile grace ; 
How the spirits ebb and flow 
Waiting for this yes or no. 

In the fields of human ken, 
To the poles and back again, 
Though you fare with wits so clever 
You would miss a pin's point never, 
You'll ne'er find, where'er you scour, 
Words that wield one-half the power 
For our earthly weal or woe. 
As the simple yes or no. 

What a chasm Hes between 
These two terms and what they mean ! 
All the flights of fancy blind, 
All the dreams of all mankind. 
Cannot span this plan-defeating, 
Bridgeless gulf that keeps from meeting 
These two capes of sun and snow. 
Commonly called yes and no. 

Comes a time of life or death 

When some precious dear one's breath — 



Songs of the SiisqueJianna 125 

That to you far sweeter is 
Than the sweetest summer breeze — 
Slower, slower seems to pass 
Through those pallid lips, alas ! 
And you wait with straining ear — 
Half in hope and half in fear — 
As the watcher counts the pulse 
For the imminent results — 
Tell me, tell me, know you, oh, 
What then means his yes or no ? 



TO THE QUEEN OF RIVERS. 

LET others sing in grander tones 
The charms of Old World rivers. 
Upon whose banks the stockdove moans. 
And wind-shook aspen quivers. 

Let native bards string choicest bays 

For Hudson or Savannah, 
I sing the queen of water-ways — 

The lovely Susquehanna. 

For in her tide that swift pursues 

Its way to meet the ocean. 
Inverted lie the fairest views 

E'er won a bard's devotion. 



126 So7igs of the Susquehanna 

For in her basin, pebble-bright, 
The silkiest grasses waver 

That ever forced a song for flight, 
Or earned a sweetheart's favor. 

Along her margin, birds in June 

Melodiously carol. 
Where flowers flourish, late and soon, 

In Sabbathean apparel. 

Her dreamy current onward sweeps 
Past many a grass-grown meadow, 

And on her virgin bosom sleeps 
Full many a clifl''s love shadow. 

river, river, running wide. 
With such a pleasing motion, 

1 would with thee that I might glide 

Out to the heaving ocean ! 

That I might rise and fall thereon. 
As once in days long over. 

When life was life and I its son. 
And I was Mabel's lover. 

When summer days and wildwood ways 
Were brimmed from morn till even 

With rippling mirth and roundelays. 
And earth seemed nearer heaven. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 127 

And now, O river running clear, 
Thro' sward made rich by farming. 

Into my life you've brought much cheer — 
I hold you doubly charming ! 

And when I come to my reward, 

Called by the great Law Giver, 
I pray I'll find just such a sward. 

And such a crystal river. 



THE DERELICT. 



'' T HAPPENED once," began a high voiced man, 

1 What time I joined the smokers at the inn, 
' ' I happened once, not many years ago, 
While cruising on the sunny Southern sea, 
A thousand gusty leagues or more from land, 
To fall in with an old abandoned craft ; 
A weedy, wave -worn veteran of the sea. 
Toy of the winds, a wandering derelict ; 
A gruesome sight she was to see, a blot 
Upon the ocean's face ; a thing to call 
Up dreams and nightmares filled with horrid ghosts. 
It was along the line of Capricorn 
That we fell in with her. The time was night ; 
Not that mysterious period of the night 
When tired Nature dreams in soundest sleep. 
But just e'er darkness mellows into dawn ; 



128 So?igs of the SiisqiieJianna 

A few soft stars were ticketing the sky, 

And never saw I a more glorious moon ; 

And by her light, unaided by a glass. 

We saw her ; and the shock that I received 

As I first gazed upon her battered hulk 

Was such as leaves a tremor with me yet. 

One mast still stood, while one lay on the deck, 

Entangled in a web of ropes. Her helm 

Swung to an fro, as though some crazy tar 

Or demon's self had charge of it. Her spars, 

Wherefrom a rent sail idly fluttered, moved 

With every light occasion of the wind, 

And creaked and moaned as though they fain would fall, 

And add their litter to the general wreck ; 

All this I marked as we drew on apace. 

But wishing to obtain a fuller view. 

We lowered a boat, and soon were riding close 

To her black hull. Her dark sides, once so new 

And bright with varnish and embellishing paint. 

Showed like a leper or a festering snake ; 

Great blisters, here and there, told where the sun 

Had looked on her in vengeance. Seams and scars 

And rotting wood abounded everywhere ; 

And 'neath her prow, and 'long her curving length. 

We noted such a mail of barnacles 

As ne'er the oldest salt had seen before. 

At last one seaman, older than the rest. 

Vowed he had seen, in such and such a year, 

In these same seas, just such a looking craft, 



Songs of the Siisqiiehanna 129 

Beating against the wind with all sails set. 
And so substantiating his report 
With '' I do vums !" and such convincing oaths, 
You dare not doubt the truth of what he said, 
Or so it seemed, ''and do you know," said he. 
And here he looked at us askance, to note 
Th' effect his words were having, "this here ship, 
I do believe, is that same haunted vessel !" 
At this the sailors would have backed their oars. 
But I, with arguments I need not quote, 
So proved the utter folly of their fears, 
That ere a seagull half a league could fly 
They'd run the boat's nose into the ship's chains, 
And I was making headway to the deck, 
Followed by all the crew, save the old salt. 
Whose awesome tale had won such poor respect. 
Who, muttering, stopped behind. But if the craft, 
Viewed from the main, bore a funereal look. 
How much more fearful looked it from the deck ; 
For from the bow to where the tiller lay, 
Crushed by the stroke of the descending mast, 
An endless scene of desolation spread 
That mystifies description. 'Twas as if 
Fell Ruin and his brother Chaos fought 
A duel to the death there on the wreck. 
And left that mute reminder of their feud 
For whom might come to witness. When at last 
We'd all above viewed to satiety. 
Had seen her ensign nailed against the mast, 

9 



130 So7igs of the Susquehanna 

Which told that she had been a British ship, 

'* Let's go below," said one, and down we fared, 

But stayed not long, for by the early light 

(It now was morning), in the cabin's gloom. 

We spied what seemed at first a sheeted ghost. 

But which I found to be a gowned corse, 

Which, leaning, stood against a paneled door. 

And staring awful. With its arms flung wide, 

As though imploring vengeance from the skies 

Upon the head of some devoted foe, 

It stood, what once was man, but now a mask ! 

But having had enough of mystery, 

I was about to quit the cabin, when 

I happened to espy an open book. 

Which lay upon a table stained with ink ; 

And drawing near, I read these solemn lines 

Some trembling hand had scrawled upon the page : 

** In the year eighteen hundred eighty-five, 

July the Fourth, in latitude unknown. 

This ship, the Ocean Queen, was by her crew 

Abandoned to the mercy of the waves ; 

May God, our pilot, guide us safe in port. ' ' 

But scarcely had I read the entry, when 

A draught of wind, torn from some breeze's skirts. 

Drew through a crevice with so weird a moan, 

I was not sure but that the corse still lived ; 

So darting one swift sidelong look behind. 

Forth from that scene of death I breathless fled. 

A starving dog I'd not till then discerned 

Ran snapping past me as I gained the deck, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 131 

Which I ran after, pitying the poor wretch, 

Thinking to save him, but he, thinking I 

But meant him some abuse, dodged here and there. 

Till I did corner him, when, with a howl 

That must have pierced the starry firmament, 

He leaped the rail and plunged into the sea ; 

And though I followed him with eyes agape, 

It was my lot to view his form no more. 

Then sending a long, lingering look around. 

And seeing all the seamen at their posts, 

I dropped into the boat and shoved away, 

And left the foundered vessel to her fate. 

And as the sailors labored at their oars 

I thought, how many a human derelict 

Was at that moment drifting o'er life's sea, 

A prey to every shifting wind of chance. 

Abandoned hulls, a menace to their kind. 

And then I prayed that I might saved be, 

And all I loved, from such a cheerless end ; 

And praying still, I climbed aboard our ship, 

And presently, as one will at the Past, 

I backward glanced athwart the driven foam. 

And with the sun's warm kiss upon her cheek, 

Beheld the derelict slow drift beyond 

My ken ; and as she faded, came the thought, 

' ' Perhaps not till the deep upheaves the dead 

Will that ship's crew behold their loved ones more." 

The &tory finished, I unnoticed rose. 

And with my thoughts turned inward, left the room, 

As one who knows a tale he durst not tell. 



132 Songs of the Susquehanna 

THE SONG OF THE PEOPLE. 

WHILE hurrying homeward late one day, 
'Mid countless crowds of people, 
I chanc'd to let my vision stray 
Where stood a lofty steeple. 

When lo ! ablaze with living fire 

A bird flew on the steeple. 
The people gaz'd up at the flyer. 

The bird gaz'd on the people. 

Then ere a soul a breath could bring, 

That blithe bird on the steeple 
With wondrous sweetness 'gan to sing 

What seem'd this song of the people : 

God made the world. He made it all. 

His hand form'd every creature, 
And ne'er an object great or small 

But owes Him for each feature ; 
His will call'd all things out of nought — 

To life's church He's the steeple — 
And over all His goodness wrought, 

He set His sovereign people. 

So, while to Him all praise is due. 

Forever and forever. 
And to His precepts should be true 

Each action and endeavor. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 133 

The next in honor upon earth, 

Above all state and steeple, 
There stands all equal as to birth. 

The consanguineous people. 

They form the customs, make the laws. 

Their will is one, eternal. 
And on all questions, in each cause. 

Their wisdom stands supernal ; 
Above all crowns and creeds they stand, 

Above all state and steeple. 
And likest Heaven is that land 

That's govern' d by the people. 



THE JOYS OF MEMORY. 

IF all the joys which serve to cheer man's lot 
And smooth the rough, uneven paths of life, 
Were blended into one, and I were called 
To choose a title for the so-made king, 
Fd name it Memory, and asked to give 
My reasons for it, I would say : The joys 
Of Hope are precious while they last, but oft, 
Like buds of promise, fall before their time ; 
Joys of the hour, though dear beyond compare- 
Such as the tryst of lovers 'neath the stars. 
The meeting of a friend that's been away. 



134 Songs of the Susquehanna 

The sight of offspring romping round the hearth 

Ere one of them is missing from the group — 

Lend but a passing sweetness, then they, too, 

With all their evanescent glories gone, 

Are summoned to the vastness of the past. 

Whence they, alas ! will never more return. 

But 'tis not so with Mem'ry. Here is found 

An amaranthine flower that blooms for aye : 

Its lustre never languishes ; its odors 

Are as enduring as the air we breathe, 

And as essential, too. Its pristine hues 

But only brighten with the lapse of time : 

It needs no prop nor stake, for its strong roots 

Are buried in the subsoil of the heart. 

Where they are crossed and laced in many ways ; 

The dews which saturate its leaves and keep 

Them green are the rich tears the gard'ner sheds 

In solitary hours ; the storms which shake 

Its branches and give it stability, 

The stealthy sighs the gardener bestows 

From a full store ; and nothing save the death 

Of him, himself, can banish from the soil 

The plant which he has tended with such pains, 

And even then it may take root in heaven. 

Such are the joys of Memory. The pains 

Of Memory, ah, who would choose to sing ? 



Songs of the Susquehanna 135 

AERIAL VOICES. 

WHAT is this murmur that the breeze 
Brings to my listening ears ? 
Unless it be the dead men's pleas, 
That lived and loved in other years. 

Unless it be that souls long lost, 

All hope of Heaven denied, 
Go ranging thus, forever crossed. 

From ocean wide to ocean wide. 

Or are they echoes of the songs. 

By starving bards once sung ? 
Or utterances of countless wrongs, 

From myriad wretched bosoms wrung ? 

Now loud, now low, they come, they go. 

And now they sound so shrill, 
I would that Voice, so sweet, so low. 

Again would whisper, '' Peace, be still !" 



ALONG THE SUSQUEHANNA. 

I TROD the sun-baked city's streets. 
Oppressed with traffic's noisome sound, 
And, weary of the vain conceits 
That glib-tongued men were flinging round, 
A longing grew on me apace 



136 So?igs of the Susquehanna 

For sights of brooks that purl and race, 
Of mossy rocks and lichened trees, 
Of hills and vales, and tufted leas, 
Of booming bees and warbling birds. 
And sheep, and swine, and browsing herds. 
For tranquil rest ; for peace profound. 
That naught might break ; and these I've found 
Along the Susquehanna. 

And more than these ; for Providence 
Among these scenes all charms augments, 
'Till common things assume a look 
They seldom wear in Nature's book ; 
While grander objects seem to be 
What none save dreamers ever see ; 
The songsters here more sweetly sing. 
The eagles soar on wider wing, 
The flowers have a richer dress. 
The skies a rarer loveliness. 
The hills are draped with softer haze, 
A balmier air around me plays 
Than anywhere in all the lands 
The eye-glance of the day commands ; 
Or so at least it seems to me 
Who stroll and muse on things to be, 
Along the Susquehanna. 

But in my dreams what whispers come, 
Sometimes, with their intrusive hum ; 



Songs of the Susqiiehaima 137 

What thoughts of men in crowded hives, 
With wrists all seared with Mammon's gyves; 
What visions of the sad distress — 
The portion of the penniless ; 
What longings fill my heart and brain 
To lift the burdens, still the pain, 
Of those who toil, yet never find 
Toil's recompense — a tranquil mind ; 
O, God, when shall man's ransom come, 
The long-looked-for millennium ? 
Such thoughts as these and more, aye, miore, 
Fall like a blight my spirit o'er ; 
Yet ne'er an answer can I find 
To quiet my unquiet mind 
As I sit pondering the themes 
That vex my soul — but dreams are dreams, 
Along the Susquehanna ! 

For in another mood, I see 

The fruit of love fall from its tree ; 

The father hurrying home at night, 

With looks of wonder and delight ; 

The mother proud his lips to press. 

To seal their new-found happiness. 

The Sabbath walk when strength has come. 

To show of all their joy the sum ; 

The neighbor calling on the pair, 

To praise their first-born son and heir ; 

The warm handshakings, laughter meet, 



138 Songs of the Susquehanna 

And jug to make the thing complete. 
Then, later, when his limbs wax strong, 
Another treasure — is this wrong? — 
These dreams that come and haunt my soul, 
When I go forth to muse and stroll 
Along the Susquehanna. 



TWO PICTURES. 



THE city is a splendid place ! behold it in the spring, 
When God's pure sunlight bands it like a golden 

wedding-ring ; 
When all the domes and pinnacles are smiling at the sky. 
And casting covert glances at the many passers-by. 
When the trolley gongs are sounding and the shoppers 

trip along 
With that merry buzz and murmur that is sweeter than 

a song ; 
What a joy to stand and watch the gay procession pass, 
Like animated crystals in kaleidoscopic glass ! 

The windows have a glory then, no rainbows ever show, 
With pyramids of costly things all gleaming in a row ; — 
The equipages clattering on the streets in proud array 
Yield a pleasure that's a passion whether seen by night 
or day ; 



Songs of the Susquehanna 139 

The terraces are charming ; with their wealth of green 
and gold ; 

It seems, if you could loll on them, you never could 
grow old ; — 

And if you're melancholy, and you feel with care op- 
pressed, 

Why, there's the park to ramble in, until you're soothed 
to rest. 

The theatres are marvels, too, their fronts of brick and 

stone 
Would captivate the eyes of prince, and lure him from 

the throne ; 
Then the churches ! — oh, the churches ! — what a peaceful 

look they have. 
With their delicate reminders of the death-bed and the 

grave ; 
Why, e'en the very pavements have a kind of mirthful 

ring,— 
It's no wonder, when you walk on them, you want to 

laugh and sing — 
At least you're apt to have such thoughts while visiting 

the city. 
But those who never know but this, I pity, oh, I pity ! 

For let us start some morn in May, and roam among 

the hills, 
When all the birds are caroling, and whetting up their 
• bills ; 



140 Songs of the Susquehanna 

When the brooks are rendered tuneful by the bounteous 
April showers, 

And the hand of Mother Nature's coining sunshine into 
flowers ; 

When the tender blades are sprouting, and the air is 
warm and sweet, 

And the golden-belted bees are gath'ring honey at your 
feet; 

Let us walk across the pastures, where the lambkins 
gambol gay, 

And the apple trees their promises of golden fruit dis- 
play, 

Or search for early strawberries beside the river clear. 
And watch the bright-winged butterflies waltz down the 

atmosphere ; 
Or let us go abroad at night, when all the stars are 

out. 
And their great general, the moon, is ordering them 

about. 
When the clouds are drifting statelily 'neath heaven's 

broad expanse. 
Where God's great eye, immeasurable, holds all within 

its glance — 
And after you've been purified at Nature's font, O 

man ! 
Go back and chant the praises of your city — if you can. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 141 

THE MEETING ON THE ICE. 

The Story of the Faithful Swedish Lover. 

IT was in the dead of winter when the Farron entered 
port, 
In the cold and cruel winter when the Ice King holds 

his court ; 
But the captain's voice was colder, and a sterner mien 

he wore, 
As he bade the Swedish stowaway, with oaths, to ''get 

on shore ! ' ' 
The youth with cold was shiv'ring, for his clothes were 

thin and torn. 
But he hastened up the gangway, followed by those 

looks of scorn. 
Soon the frozen streets he entered, streets in icy fetters 

bound. 
All the place seemed strange and foreign, strange and 

foreign every sound, — 
Not a voice was raised to cheer him, not a pleasant look 

or word ; 
Even death, to this reception, seemed a thing to be pre- 
ferred. 

In his little home in Sweden, where his early years were 
spent, 

He had been, as fits a Christian, always happy and con- 
tent ; 



142 Songs of the Susqueha^ina 

But he fell in love one summer, and the maiden that he 
loved 

Was the sweetest flower that fancy ever pictured or ap- 
proved ; 

Still, when he would talk of marriage, she would an- 
swer, ' ' Nay, not yet. 

We are far too poor to marry, ' ' so the day was never 
set. 

But one day a letter reached her, from a friend here in 
the States, 

Telling her that Madam Fortune never comes to one 
who waits ; 

'*I have made some little money here," the tempting 
letter ran, 

*' And you likewise can, if you will come and listen to 
my plan." 

So the matter soon was settled, and his sweetheart sailed 
away ; 

For a while he got her letters, but at last, for many a 
day. 

Not a word had been forthcoming, and he feared some- 
thing was wrong. 

So, though he was sick and feeble — he was never over- 
strong — 

He resolved to go and seek her, but as he was money- 
less. 

He concluded as a stowaway he would hunt for happi- 
ness. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 143 

Well, at length the night o'ertook him, and he got his 
bed and board, 

But in such an humble lodging as the prison walls • 
afford ; 

On the following day he wandered through the streets 
again till noon, 

When he happened near the river bank to hear a Swed- 
ish tune 

Rendered by a band from Fatherland, and lo ! as he 

drew near, 
He discovered that they played for skaters who upon 

the clear 
And smooth surface of the ice, were doing sundry fancy 

acts ; 
For a time he stood bewildered, like a person lost in 

facts, 
When a voice from the assemblage shouted something, 

loud and plain, 
Then he asked one of the players if its meaning he'd 

explain ; 
And the bandman quickly told him that an offer had 

been made 
By the champion, to the skater who could make his 

glory fade ; 
''If I had my skates from Sweden," said the youth 

with flashing eyes, 
"■ I would like to take my chances for the winning of 

that prize." 



144 Songs of the Susquehanna 

*' Why, if skates are all that's needed," said a stranger 

near at hand, 
"■ Here's a pair that I will loan you, just received from 

Fatherland." 
Warmly thanked he then the stranger, quickly on his 

feet he bound them ; 
Then he tried each edge for keenness, and a royal pair 

he found them ; 
Soon before the judges stood he, stood he like a statue, 

still. 
Waiting the momentous signal for a trial of his 

skill. 
Out upon the glassy surface, when the word propitious 

came. 
Spun the youth, with practiced motion of his pliant 

limbs and frame ; 
First he cut such simple figures as the boys are wont 

to do. 
Then in quick succession followed figure 8 and letter Q. 

On to Richmond, the Rotation, and the Grapevine then 
were done. 

Never had such grace been witnessed in the land of Set- 
ting Sun ; 

Now he waltzed and turned a twister, till you'd think 
his brain must reel. 

Then he ran a dozen paces, stopping short upon his 
heel. 

Finally, with ghding motion, he began to whirl and 
spin. 



Songs of the Sicsquehamia 145 

Till you'd think a monster top was whirring where the 

man had been. 
Then upon one tiptoe spun he, till a human drill he 

seemed, 
Then 'twas finished. Loud they clapped him, and the 

assemblage yelled and screamed. 
He was led in triumph forward, to the gray-haired 

judges' stand, 
And they soon proclaimed him victor, and they shook 

him by the hand ; 

But they scarce had ceased their praises, when a lady 

skater came. 
And into his arms she flung herself, while babbling 

forth his name. 
All the past was now forgotten ; all the longing and the 

pain ; 
What cared he for others' praises ? he had found his 

love again. 
She had been deceived, she told him, by a woman's 

lying tongue. 
But she never more would leave him ; here she tighter 

to him clung. 
So, with fame and money laden, and his sweetheart by 

his side. 
He walked back into the city, with that fair girl for his 

guide ; 
And although full many years have passed, with all 
•their chance and change, 



146 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Since th' events which I have chronicled were wheeled 

in history's range, 
In the face of all the trials that will come to men and 

mice, 
They have never let their hearts forget that meeting on 

the ice. 



THE FAIRY QUEEN. 

ONE time there lived beside the bank of Susque- 
hanna's stream 
A little maid, whom you may know, by the name of 

Mabel Breme. 
She was a merry, winsome child, who used to roam at 

will 
Among the fields, and through the woods, where foamed 

a noisy rill ; 
And ofttimes, when the days were warm, and cloudless 

was the sky, 
She'd take her basket on her arm and bid her folks 

good-bye, 
And, followed by her faithful dog, she'd seek the forest 

green. 
And frolic with the wildwood flowers that grew in the 

ravine. 
She was a tender, loving lass, with hair of golden hue. 
And soft, white skin, and rounded arms, and eyes of 

heaven's blue. 



Songs of the Susqiiehaima 147 

Now all the creatures of the wood loved little Mabel so, 
They'd often let her fondle them; and one old crafty 

crow 
Became so tame he'd steal from her whatever pleased 

his eye, 
Then say ''Caw! Caw!" and off he'd go as fast as 

he could fly. 
And one day, when she'd wandered far within the gloomy 

wood. 
She spied a great big butterfly, and snatching off her 

hood. 
She darted after him in glee, made many a daring 

spring, 
Resolved to catch, if so she could, the charming little 

thing. 
She chased him over many a knoll, and many a fallen 

limb ; 
But though she oft was near her prey, she failed to 

capture him. 
And then she learned, a lesson hard, what such vain 

pleasures cost. 
For when she set out to return, she found that she was 

lost ; 
But this would not have proved so ill had Rover kind 

been there. 
For she would pat him on the head, and catch him by 

the hair. 
And he would lead her safely home, though he was 

nearly blind ; 



148 So7igs of the Susquehanna 

But this day she had come alone, and left her guide 

behind ; 
A fate which falls to older ones, who turn their backs 

on God — 
They lose their way, and helpless stray, where all seems 

strange and odd. 
At first she was not much alarmed, thinking she soon 

would see 
Some beaten path, or well-known rock, or dear, familiar 

tree ; 
But if a thing in that wild wood of aught she'd know 

could tell. 
It did not once the news impart, it kept its secret well ; 
And soon, to add to her distress, the night came creep- 
ing on. 
With all those buzzing nameless things that come when 

day is gone ; 
And when the moon came sailing up, like a ship upon 

the deep. 
She sank down on a hollow log and sobbed herself to 

sleep. 
And as she slept the wind arose, and murmured through 

the trees 
Till Mabel dreamt she heard the sound of heavenly 

melodies. 
And lo ! a wondrous thing took place while she in 

slumber lay — 
A band of fairies came along and carried her away 
In a chariot made of a turtle shell, which bore this 

strange device : 



Songs of the Susquehanna 149 

*' Catch me who can !" and which was drawn by fifty- 
milk-white mice. 
They took her through a dry ravine, and up a pitch- 
dark glen, 
Then out upon a green grass plot beside a marshy fen^ 
And sat her down within a ring of twenty dancing 

elves 
As curious and mischievous as the fairies are themselves, 
And when she woke and looked around, she wond'ring 

rubbed her eyes. 
For such an unaccustomed sight o'erwhelmed her with 

surprise ; 
But soon there came a dapper elf, in suit of bottle green, 
And told her that they wanted her to stay and be their 

queen, 
And treated her so gallantly, to put the matter plain, 
She fell in love w^ith him at once, and thought she 

w^ould remain : 
So then he led her to a bower, and placed her on a 

throne. 
And sat a crown upon her head, made of a large pine 

cone ; 
And then the fairies gathered round, and paid her 

homage due. 
Till she could scarce believe her eyes, so strange it 

seemed and new ; 
And when the rites were all performed, they danced 

round in a ring 
Till here and there a leg fell off, and here and there a 

wing ; 



I 50 Songs of the Siisqiiehanna 

But all at once they ceased their sport, and said 'twas 

time to dine, 
And so they brought her locust-soup, and alderberry 

wine, 
And katydids' and emmets' eggs served in a moth's 

cocoon. 
And lo ! the very butterfly she'd chased that afternoon ; 
But just as they had brought a sauce made of a cuckoo- 
flower 
She heard a distant church -bell chime the midnight 

passing hour, — 
When lo ! the fairies disappeared, and she sat on the log 
And listened to the shouts of men and the barking of 

a dog; 
Then soon within her father's arms she lay secure, at 

rest. 
While faithful Rover licked her hand, and felt himself 

caressed. 
And afterward, when, snug at home, she told of what 

she'd seen, 
And how the fairies treated her, and made her be their 

queen, 
Her mother took her on her lap and fed her clotted 

cream. 
And told her that the fairies were the people of a 

dream ; 
But Mabel often told her friends, who heard her with 

delight, 
How she was made the fairies' queen on that midsum- 
mer night. 



Songs of the Siisquehanna i 5 

WHERE MY LOVE DWELLS. 

MY love she dwells in a realm of gold, 
Near the shore of an infinite sea, 
And round her home the blithe airs roam. 

And birds sing merrily \ 
Within its bowers are numerous flowers, 

But only one blooms for me — 
Yet I hold it rarer than all, and fairer. 
For its name is Constancy. 

My love hath all that the heart might crave, 

In her home by the infinite sea. 
With time without measure to share the pleasure 

That floweth there so free ; 
But my heart is light, for I know that, despite 

The glories that there must be 
Beyond the stars, and the rainbow bars, 

My true love is waiting for me. 

And thither I'll go, when my work is done, 

To that home by the infinite sea — 
To that realm of gold where joys untold 

Are ripening for her and me — 
And there I will find, for 'tis so designed 

By God's all-wise decree. 
My beautiful love, in her home above, 

Where all that is fair will be. 

And we'll wander at will through the cheerful vales 
That are girt by the infinite sea, — 



152 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Yea, ramble together, nor question whether 

The Seraphs are happy as we ; 
But dreaming our dreams by the murmurous streams 

That wind through the heavenly lea, 
We'll loiter along, with a burden of song, 

Contented as lovers should be. 



AN AFTERNOON WITH NATURE. 

''T^WAS afternoon in Summer. Earth and air, 

1 And all the nomad clouds that roam the sky 
With strange resemblances of beasts and birds. 
Invited me to steal from haunts of men, 
And, freed from every trammel set by art. 
List to the oracles from Nature's lips, 
As did the prophets in the days of old. 
I strolled upon a hill's scant-herbaged crown 
And watched the sun toil westward. High aloft, 
A self-appointed sentinel of day. 
An eagle soared, fit emblem of the free. 
And kept close vigil o'er his kingly brood. 
Far down below, a hundred rods or more, 
With flowers banked, and timbered to its edge, 
The river rolled with motion grandly slow. 
Sublime the view ! Beyond the sinuous stream. 
Enriched with farms, and groves, and hill -slopes green, 
The landscape stretched for many a measured mile. 
A red-roofed town, just visible on my left. 



Songs of the Susqiiehmina 153 

Where no life showed to justify its name, 

Nor chimney smoked, nor flag at flagstaff waved, 

Nor train went rumbling past, nor kite o'er flew. 

Seemed not a town designed for art and trade, 

But some lost, ancient city of the dead ; — 

So distance works illusions on the sight. 

It was a scene to dream of Birds in air, 

And those sequestered in th' umbrageous woods, 

Made sweetest music. Butterflies and bees, 

And all their lesser kindred that disturb 

The loiterer with plannings, strokes, and stings. 

Were off' ring to the wind in divers ways 

Their praises of their Maker and their God. 

Soft perfumes lulled my senses. Cattle's lows 

From pastures hidden to the northward came 

And wooed my fancies. Far away I heard 

A house-dog bark. A distant church-bell tolled 

The time of day with cadence rhythmical ; 

Then faintly clear a cock's grand clarion 

Rang thro' the chambers of the atmosphere, 

And woke the echoes in the neighboring crags. 

A wild dove's coo fell plaintive as the croon 

Of wakeful babe upon its mother's ears. 

And brought me mem'ries of the painful past ; 

Then silence, pierced by rill's low, rippling sound. 

Than which no sweeter music ear hath heard. 

Filled with its magic all the dreamy wild ; 

Then came an interval so strangely still 

The very air seemed pining for a noise ; 



154 Songs of the Susquehanna 

All Nature counterfeited sleep. The leaves 

Scarce stirred. The ferns closed up their fronds. The 

flow'rs 
Hung listless. And soon, influenced by the calm 
That brooded like a spirit o'er the world 
Outworn, I yawned, and, maugre time and place, 
I stretched my limbs upon the earth's rude bed 
And voyaged swifty to the realm of sleep. 



THE LESSON IN THE FENCE CORNER. 

WEARY with life, its cares and endless toil. 
Its ceaseless longings and its sad regrets, 
One time I said, ''I'll seek some lonely spot. 
Some wild retreat that's seldom visited. 
Where naught may interpose to change my mind. 
And end my vain existence ! ' ' With this thought 
I passed along a dreary country road, 
Edged deep with shrubs, and vines, and noble trees. 
But paused within the angle of a fence 
To scrawl some senseless reason for my act ; 
But as I stopped, my eyes by chance I cast 
Upon the ground, when lo ! there at my feet 
A wren looked up with such a friendly eye, 
A lonely rose so rich a fragrance shed, 
A pearly everlasting looked so sweet, 
A fern so chaste, a partridge vine so gay, 



Songs of the Siisquclianna i 5 5 

So red with berries and so green with leaves, 

And all the tender herbs that lined the way 

Seemed so informed with color, flushed with life. 

How could a man with heart within his side, 

In such distinguished company, turn from God 

Or think of self-destruction ? Reason, shame 

And pride came to my rescue ; I was saved ! 

So, with an herb-like hope and high resolve, 

I flung away my now so hateful pen ; 

Then, turning round, I marked, with brimming eyes, 

His bow of promise bending in the skies. 



THE FLOWER. 



THERE grew once, in a sunny bower 
Far in a forest, a beauteous flower ; 
It was not such as ladies fair, 
These vulgar days, are wont to wear, 

But was, indeed, the rarest bloom 
That e'er held dew or shed perfume ; 
Yet to that spot, unknown to fame. 
No bold discoverer ever came ; 

And so, unsung, it lived and died. 
And o'er its grave the sad winds sighed \- 
It and its seed now sleep i' the moss, 
And earth is poorer by its loss. 



156 So7igs of the Susquehanna 

So oft a noble deed will bloom, 
And live its moment in the gloom, 
And then be swallowed in Time's sea, 
To moulder till eternity. 



TO SLEEP. 



O PRECIOUS sleep ! O weary Nature's boon ! 
O kindest nurse ! O Heaven's thrice blest gift ! 
When on thy lap the infant sinks to rest. 
How soft the smiles around his sweet lips play ; 
Kissed by an angel, bringing him a dream. 
He seems too pure for mortals to caress ; 
Then when he's weaned, some cruel, luckless morn, 
What soothes him like thy gentle minist' rings? 
Thou art a bringer on of all things best ; 
Thou bringest health, and strength, and peace, and joy ; 
The punished youth, the maid reproved for pride, 
Tho' sighing still, forgets in thee their cares ; 
The wife, bereft of love and husband, too. 
Seeks thy abode of bliss, nor seeks in vain ; 
The common prostitute, beneath thy touch, 
A brief relinquishment from sin enjoys ; 
The statesman, wooed by thy seductive smiles. 
Casts off his burdens, lays aside his frown. 
And takes huge draughts of thy delicious wine ; 
The spendthrift, crazed, his fortune swept away, 
Rests in thy arms, oblivious of his loss ; 
And sometimes felons, serving out their terms, 
Look almost innocent beneath thy spell. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 157 

To th' aged, too, thou'rt kind; and ofttimes when, 

A prey t' ill-health and ev'ry small annoy 

That such conditions bring, they have become — 

hapless state ! — obnoxious to their friends 
And burdens to themselves, thy hand will seal 
Their eyes, and lead them to a cavern where 

Sits throned a king called Death, who'll give them bliss. 

So, too, have I much cause to thank thee, Sleep ! 

For oft thou ledst me o'er thy dark domain — 

Ay, even to the marge of the dim lake 

Where dreams are made — and dallied by my side 

When I would buffet with its crisping waves, 

And after I had breasted long its tide. 

And grown fatigued, thou hast returned with me. 

And borne me to the busy world of day. 

Where I have mingled v^ath my fellow-men. 

And stood my share of sorrows as I should ; 

And if against my better judgment I 

Have sometimes erred, and walked in ways forbid 

By God's commandments, thou hast ever been 

A ready comforter, and brought me from 

My wanderings with such persuasiveness 

Of language, (for thou hast a language. Sleep !) 

1 could not choose but turn my steps aright. 
And with a livelier faith and larger zeal 
Renew my trust in Him whom Moses saw. 
While all the hosts of Israel breathless stood. 

So, sleep, sweet sleep, thou life's last, earliest friend. 
All hail to thee, I sing ; all hail to thee ! 



158 Songs of the Siisq2ichanna 

WHEN THE BLOOM IS ON THE CLOVER. 

WHEN the bloom is on the clover and the blue is 
in the sky, 
And the music of the birds pervades the air, 
How I love in lazy languor in the shade to loll and lie. 
And the present with the past events compare. 

How I call up all those faces from that far-off bustling 
shore, 
When the world and I were younger and more gay — 
All those happy lads and lasses that with me in days of 
yore 
Builded castles that the morrows witched away. 

How I climb again the stairways of successes one by one. 
And enjoy the wonted pleasures of old days. 

While with full an equal caution how the dangerous reefs 
I shun 
That erst menaced me beside the parting ways. 

How I wrestle 'mid the rapids of that busy, boisterous 
time, 
How I run once more its gantlets of despair ; 
How I thrill anew while dreaming of the wedding- bells 
that chime — 
Ay, and shudder when they toll o' er corses fair ! 

How I feel again its raptures, how I bear its bitter pains, 
How I waste the fleeting hours in mere play ; 



SoJigs of the Susquehanna 159 

How I snatch the burning kisses, how I hoard the golden 
gains, 
How the candle of my prime I burn away 

Till the sinking sun of summer thro' the ocherous at- 
mosphere 
Sends a warning that the wise will not defy ; 
But the game is worth the candle when the clover-blooms 
are here, 
And the clear, transparent blue is in the sky. 



O HILLS OF MY COUNTRY. 

O HILLS of my Country, whose broad summits 
tower 
O'er vine-matted valleys and corn-scented glades. 
Whose gentle slopes shimmer when kissed by the shower 
Or wooed by the wind your demesnes that invades, — 
I love ye, I greet ye, and ne'er shall I fail, 
O Hills of my Country, to bid ye all hail ! 

The blooms that enhalo your brows are the fairest. 
The groves you enshadow the noblest that grow ; 

The minstrels that pipe in your passes the rarest 
That lighten the labor of love here below ; — 

And till my speech fail me, in death I grow pale, 

O Hills of my Country, I'll bid ye all hail ! 



l6o Songs of tlic Siisqiichanna 

The flocks and the herds that subsist on the grasses 
That sway on your bosoms like waves on the sea, 

Are fatter and sleeker than the droves of wild asses 
That graze in the pastures of famed Galilee ; 

And ne'er shall I cease, till fond memory fail, 

To praise them, and bless them, and bid them all hail ! 

Then, Hills of my Country ! O long may you tower. 
And lift your broad foreheads above the green vales ! 

And long may my Country remain in her flower, 
Dispensing ripe justice with well-balanced scales ! 

And long may her soldiers o'er others prevail ; — 

O Hills of my Country, I bid ye all hail ! 



I NEVER KNEW. 



I NEVER knew what beauty held the rose 
Until my loved one did its wealth disclose ; 
I never thought the human eye so fine 
Until her starry orbs gazed into mine ; 
I never dreamed a kiss could be so sweet 
Until her loving lips with mine did meet ; 
And till she died, in that memorial year, 
I never knew that life could seem so drear. 



Songs of the SnsqiieJianna i6l 

THE MOTHERLY WREX. 

THERE'S a cute little sparrow just up in our eaves 
That the winds prattle of in the sky ; 
And there that bold climber, the pale ivy, weaves 
A fair screen which defies the hawk's eye. 

All alone in his bower, an orphan, he sits, 

Chaperoned by a motherly wren. 
Who shares with the stranger her own brood's tidbits, 

That she gleans from the briery glen. 

Nor think the mere offering of fat worms and flies 

All the parts of her kindness each day, 
For once, when the cat had near seized him, her cries 

Drove the prowling intruder away. 

And only last night, when the lightning was glittering, 
And the rain-witches wrought at their loom, 

She flew to his nest, and by the way he was twittering 
I knew that she brightened his gloom. 



BALLAD OF THE ROVER. 

COMMEND who will a life of ease, 
Spent near the ivied walls of home. 
With never wish to cross the seas. 

Or tread the old world's heathery loam ; 



1 62 Songs of the Susqiiehatina 

But while yon skies afford a dome, 

And elsewhere wholesome victuals teem, 

Give, oh, give me the right to roam, 

While cruising down life's silvery stream. 

You who prefer these worm-galled trees 

To those which shake their boughs o'er Rome, 
Or who ne'er longed to trudge through Greece — 

Go to, you unprogressive mome ! 
And cling about your skirts of home ; 

But grant to me my wish, my dream, 
To see all sights 'neath God's blue dome, 

While cruising down life's silvery stream. 

Let you who will, vaunt home-bound peace ! 

Give me the stormier waves that comb 
Where never wing of spanking breeze 

May lay along the feathery foam ; 
Give me the alpenstock and tome. 

Those helps to heights sublime, supreme, 
Of ancient lore, while you stay home. 

You have no nerve to breast life's stream. 

So, Fates, while winds blow blithe, and home 

Holds naught but things I disesteem. 
Grant me one boon, the means to roam, 

While cruising down life's silvery stream. 



So7tgs of the Susquehanna 163 

AN ENTREATY. 

O WINDS of midsummer stoop downward, I pray, 
And bear me so bravely where zephyrs low sigh, 
And faint-scented blossoms — Dame Nature's sachet — 
Combine to make cheerful these days of July. 

For the sun's steady rays o'er the roofs of the city. 
And death-breathing pavements that glimmer and 
glare. 

Make life anything but a song and a ditty 
To all save the insects that swarm in the air. 

Then waft me afar to those cool sylvan places 
Where velvety mosses and myrtles abound. 

And willow withes wimple and fanciful faces 

Peer forth unexpected from bramble and mound. 

For there, I am told, the bright ' ' bumble-bee ' ' shoul- 
ders 

His carbine all day, as a sentinel should ; 
And butterfly ballets tread measures on bowlders, 

While crows for spectators encore from the wood. 

Now what have we here in the province of pleasure 
To offset what Nature has ranged for us there. 

But overworked scores from the last season's measure. 
With generous supplies of stock-scenes and foul air ! 

So much for the theatres ; as for the games 
We poor prisoned mortals at intervals see, 



164 Song's of the Susquehanna 

Why, really, they're nothing compared to the claims 
Oft made for the sport by some dear devotee. 

Then winds that I love, to those far remote regions, 
O stoop down in passing and bear me away ! 

O bear me away from these stay-at-home legions, 
Convey, I entreat thee, if but for a day ! 



THE FATE OF LITTLE ROB ROY. 

ONE time when the forests could run, 
And the birds were gifted with speech, 
There lived a small boy 
By the name of Rob Roy, 
Whose chief end and joy. 
From the rise till the set of the sun, 
Seemed teasing all things within reach. 

And spite of his mother's advice, 
And his father's admonishing looks. 
He'd worry the dogs. 
And ride on the hogs, 
And blow up the frogs 
With a quill, and poor little field mice 
He'd capture with cheese-baited hooks. 

So rude did he finally become. 

And so bold were the pranks that he played, 
His parents together. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 165 

With stout thongs of leather 
Rob Roy did tether, 
In a closet, with never a crumb 
To keep him from being afraid. 

But Rob, who'd too long had his way, 
Was not by one rod to be ruled ; 
So when he was freed, 
He ran with all speed. 
And hid in the mead 
Till the day its bright robe laid away, 
And its temples in Erebus cooled, 

When he sped like a deer to the forge. 
The wind making whips of his hair. 
And seizing the bellows — 
The legends tell us — 
With ardor zealous, 
He dragged it away to the gorge, 
And filled its great lungs up with air. 

"■ And now," said young Rob, as the wind 
Played 'round his newfangled balloon, 
*' I'll heal up my sores, 
And settle old scores. 
My progenitors. 
By taking a short sail behind 

This bag by the light of the moon !" 

So, raising the bellows aloft. 
He floated right up in the sky ; 



1 66 So?igs of the Siisquchaima 

Then higher and higher 
He rose, till the spire 
Of the church sank entire 
From view in the radiance soft 

That all where encountered his eye. 

He then drifted out o'er the sea, 

And ships that were rocked by the waves, 
Then over low islands 
He flew in the skylands, 
Amid profound silence, — 
Then over the cloud-drifts sailed he, 

That looked like the mounds above graves. 

For weeks he was wafted along, 

The sport of the tempest and gales ; 
He sailed to and fro. 
But could not let go 
His hold from that snow- 
Crowned machine, that seemed singing this song. 
High up o'er the sea and its sails : 

** There once was a lad that abode 
In sound of the sorrowful sea. 
But who would not mind 
His parents so kind. 
So up in the wind 
By a bellows air-filled he was towed, 
In the trail of a wild storm bee. ' ' 



Songs of the Susquehanna 167 

Now Rob he grew thinner each day, 
And what with the sun and the rain, 
His flesh shrivelled up, 
Till a good sized cup 
Your grandparents sup 
Their tea from would hide him away, 
Then — nought but his voice did remain. 

And often, when the winds blow a gale, 
And the billows are lashed into foam, 
'Tis said you can hear 
His voice sounding drear. 
Now far, and now near, 
Till it dies in a pitiful wail, 

High up in the heaven's wide dome. 

And now I have told you the fate 

That came to this bad little boy. 

Who would not be led 

By what his folks said. 

Beware you, who tread 

In his footsteps, before 'tis too late. 

And you've shared the same fate as Rob Roy. 



TO AN UNCROWNED RULER. 

DEARY, deary ! What is this ? 
Baby's feet held out to kiss ! — 
Ten wee little twinkling toes. 
Pink as pinkest bud that grows. 



1 68 Songs of the S2isque]iamia 

Plump as plumpest figs e'er seen, 
Soft as silk or velveteen : — 
Did I ever think I'd kiss 
Two such feet and call it bliss ? 

What ! not yet have had enough ? 
Still must dadda's lips out puff? 
Ah, you little despot you, 
With your face so fair to view, 
Little know you where those feet 
Sometime may lead you, my sweet ! 
Down what thorny aisles of pain. 
Thro' what floods of sorrow's rain; 

In what wilderness of doubt, 
O'er what heresy's devious route. 
Near what shelving brink of woe 
They may all unheeding go ! 
Full of trouble, full of strife. 
Is the span of mortal life ; — 
Little do we apprehend, 
When we start, where we will end : 

Some may sail o'er scented seas 
To joy's farthest Hebrides; 
Some may climb the fairest capes. 
Search for wisdom's luscious grapes ; 
Some may float thro' pleasure's skies. 
Lulled by airs of Paradise ; — 



So7tgs of the Susquehanna 169 

May your lot be like to these, 
Here I pray on bended knees. 

May you never feel the smart 
Of foul infamy's poisoned dart ; 
May you never seek the haunts 
Of low vice's cormorants ; 
May, my child, you never sup 
From the drunkard's brimming cup. 
Or descend crime's darkened stair. 
Is my fervent wish and prayer. 



THE WIND AT PLAY. 

A COLD wind sprang up from his home in the 
West 
And muttered, •'• Ah, me, I must go forth in quest 
Of some sort of pastime, my passions to stay ;" 
So quickly he rushed toward the gates of the day. 
He passed thro' a forest, and out on a lawn, 
New-lit by the slenderest pencil of dawn ; 
He leaped o'er a brook where the shadowy trout 
Were throwing their noiseless fish language about. 
And reached a broad mountain whose snow-muffled 

head 
Showed white as a sepulchre built for the dead ; 
Then tossed up a handful of this powdery stuff, 
And wiped out a village below with a puff. 



I/O Songs of the Susquehanna 

And cried, ''This is jolly good sport I have found !" 

Then eastward he sprang, forty miles at a bound. 

The clouds saw him coming and scudded away 

Like swift -footed bison whom men come to slay \ 

And over the plains like a great trailing snake 

He passed, leaving ruin and death in his wake ; 

He crossed the Great Lakes, where the tall -masted 

ships 
Were tumbled about o'er the billows like chips. 
Till all that had trusted their lives on the waves 
Were lying face upward in unhallowed graves. 
And then, as tho' glutted with this sort of fun, 
He went for the cities far east with a run ; 
He lifted the chimneys and signs as he went. 
And laughed as huge buildings in chasms he sent \ 
He waked up the sleepers on outlying farms, 
And left them to rest in Death's sheltering arms ; 
He flung his huge bulk against mountains and hills, 
He ruffled the rivers and scooped up the rills ; 
Then, racing across the wide desert tracts. 
He played merry pranks with the loud cataracts 
That sparkled and splashed in that unconstrained way 
That cataracts have when they're happy in play. 
But lo ! his rude onslaught transformed in a trice 
Their tresses of water to tresses of ice. 
Then, filled to repletion with acts of this ilk. 
He dropped to a zephyr, as fine as spun silk ; 
He loitered along thro' the warm, sunny glades, 
And kissed the ripe lips of the school-going maids ; 



Songs of the Stisquehanna 171 

He scampered in glee with the saffron-haired boys, 

And held their young hearts in a rapturous poise ; 

He danced o'er the meadows, and played with the 

flowers. 
And scattered the blossoms about him in showers. 
And left such an odor of goodness behind 
That many a heart murmured, '' God bless the wind !" 
And then he returned to his home in the West, 
And yawned as he muttered, 'Tve earned a sweet 

rest!" 

THE LETTER. 
From a Cousin in the Country to a Cousin in Town. 

DEAR COUSIN: — Your letter has just come to 
hand ; 
But there is much in it I can't understand ; 
For instance, you say that the ladies in town 
Wear sleeves that take just as much goods as the gown ; 
Now this to us country-bred girls, at the least. 
Seems queer as that Beauty should mate with the Beast ; 
And then there's another thing equally strange. 
And which would ill fit with our life at the grange. 
You say there are women's clubs now where they have 
All comforts that men have excepting the shave ; — 
Now, dear, I much wonder, if this thing be true. 
How women find time their home duties to do ; 
And how the men manage their tempers to keep 
With such goings on is a problem too deep 



1/2 Songs of the Susquehanna 

For my brain to solve, but perhaps it were better 

To leave this alone till I get your next letter. 

You mention one thing, tho', that strikes me so curious, 

The very least thought of it drives me quite furious, — 

'Tis this : you assert there are ladies of note 

Who hold 'tis the right of all women to vote ; — 

Now I, as a woman, have this much to say — 

And I wish that my voice could reach all ears to-day — 

That when women vote the fair sex will quite vanish, 

The men grow effeminate, the women be mannish ; 

At last, with the world one immense seething sea 

Of chaos, we'll end with the apes in the tree. 

And now, lest you think that nought here can transpire, 

I'll say that last week our new smokehouse caught fire, 

But did not burn down ; and our old turkey gobbler 

Was stolen, we thmk, by a mendicant cobbler. 

But O, there is one thing I'd nearly forgotten : 

You remember that old maiden lady. Miss Totten, 

Who lived all alone, and whose walk was so tottery ? 

Well, she had sent money for years to a lottery. 

Yet all that she drew was a book of Bill Nye's, — 

When word came last night that she'd drawn the first 

prize. 
The news so surprised her she laughed till she cried. 
And then had a stroke, and this morning she died. 
So fortune will come if we strong enough ask it. 
If only to buy us a burial casket. 
And now, ere I grow too prolix, I will close. 
Write soon : with much love : from your fond Cousin 

Rose. 



So7igs of the Susquehanna 173 

THE SONG OF LABOR. 

I SING the song of labor. Blithe and hale 
As are its votaries my song shall be ; 

And if it sometimes halts or lags along, 

Remember labor is not always smooth ; 

Full long enough I've tuned my lyre to praise 

The superficialities of life ; 

Immersed at length in pure Parnassian dew, 

I sing that nobler theme, man's use to man ; 

And what is there so grand as honest toil ? 

What joy so dear as that which it inspires? 

It ennobles while it soils ; and what it wounds 

It heals. It stills the voice of sorrow, and robs 

It of its sting. It binds man to his brother, 

Makes easier the dread approach to death. 

Intensifies the love we hold for God, 

And makes more dear the hallowed name of home. 

Look at the grave-eyed laboring man, who goes 

Early each morn to his appointed toil, 

The very pride and bulwark of his race 1 

Observe him, too, when at his wonted post. 

How cheerfully he sets about his tasks, 

And tell me, " Is not his an envious lot?" 

He holds the happiness of nations in 

His hand. His sinewy arms sets all the wheels 

Of industry in motion. But for him 

The earth would be a wilderness that's now 

A home ; for who cut down the forests, tilled 



174 Songs of the Susquehanna 

The glebe, but he ? Who quit his toil 

And fought the savage hordes that like starved wolves 

Swept o'er the trembling earth? Who else but he? 

And when the curse of slavery smit our land, 

And like the dread leviathan became 

A menace to our sacred liberty, 

Who was it stretched the monster in the dust, 

But chiefly he ? Then let us sing his worth ! 

Then let the mighty chorus sound ! And while 

The man is honored, so his toil will be. 



AN AUTUMN RAMBLE. 

THE day was fair ; the air as bland 
As ever smiled o'er Samarcand, 
When forth beneath a vacant sky 
I sauntered, with a kindling eye ', 
The city streets, with shade-trees lined 
And rented homes, I left behind ; 
And soon, within my well-loved woods, 
I gave vent to my blithest moods. 

I walked beside the rippling rills. 
And thro' the meads and o'er the hills, 
Nor paused until my pulse and brain 
Were tingling with the day's champagne. 

The birds were uttering farewell cries, 
The echoes sending back replies. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 175 

And all the unpolluted breeze 
Was filled with wildwood lullabies ; 
And should you ask me what I did, 
While wand' ring there those scenes amid, 
I'd look you o'er with mild surprise — 
Then answer you in much this wise : 

I walked beside the rippling rills, 
And thro' the meads and o'er the hills, 
Nor paused until my heart and brain 
Were reeling with the air's champagne. 

And tho' you'd cry, half vexed, ''What more?" 
I'd still make answer as before. 
And then I think with me you'd say, 
One could much worse have spent the day. 



BE WATCHFUL. 

BE watchful ! It is only 
Thro' vigilance our lives 
E'er reached their full attainments, 
Or weal our woe survives. 

Be watchful o'er your passions, 
Lest they in strength shall rise. 

And, overthrowing reason. 
Allure you from the prize. 



1/6 Songs of tJie Susquehanna 

Be watchful o'er those monsters, 
The demons Scorn and Hate, 

That like two wily dragons 
At love's weak wicket wait. 

Be watchful over Memory ; 

For, down the Past's long lane^ 
Have faded poison -flowers. 

Whose leaves may sprout again. 

Be watchful ! Oh, be watchful, 
I pray, o'er Grudge and Greed ; 

For, of all sins most baneful. 
These are the source and seed. 

Be watchful o'er your actions ! 

For, tho' you deem none high, 
Be sure there's still one witness 

In God's unsleeping eye. 

Be watchful of the small things 
That go to make up life ; 

For know they are the well-springs 
Of harmony or strife. 

Be watchful o'er your duties ; 

In all your acts be square ; 
And in the end, believe me, 

All men will speak you fair. 

Be watchful — but be prudent ; 
Zealous — yet circumspect ; 



Songs of the Siisqiielianna lyy 

So that, while ever striving, 
Your efforts none suspect. 



AN OLD MAN'S SOLILOQUY. 

THEY say that I am growing old, that in my once 
fair face 
The wrinkles and the crowfeet are running their last 

race ; 
The hair that curled so natural upon my youthful crown, 
I'm told now looks like wiregrass the wintry winds beat 

down ; 
My form is not so stately as it used to be, they say — 
My style in dress and manners not that in vogue to-day. 

And so I'm ordered to my room, and bid to stay there, 

too ; 
In fact, cast off, as useless as some old, decrepit shoe. 
And yet — perhaps they mean it for the best,— for I am 

old. 
And I have got strange ways, but then they needn't 

appear so cold ; 
I never did my family any particular wrong, 
Unless they count it wickedness to love and serve 'em 

long. 

I wonder if they recollect, when out their set among. 
From what a little draughty hut this lordly mansion 
sprung ? 



178 Soitgs of the SusqucJianna 

Or how, the coldest nights, their mother, when our 

prayers were said, 
Would slip upstairs and tuck them in with clothes 

spared from our bed ? 
Or share my burden in the fields without complaint for 

days. 
So they might stay at school and learn to mend their 

backwood ways? 

But though we had to battle hard to show the wolf the 

door, 
I'd rather see those times again than roll in wealth 

galore ; — 
Just give me back that poor, fagged-out, work-crippled 

wife o' mine, 
And that small draughty hut, dear Lord, and all my 

wealth is thine ! 
But no ! the tears might sear my cheek, the snows of 

age drive fast 
Upon my brow, and yet, alas, 'twould not bring back 

the past. 

For in a quiet churchyard lot, all in the blowing west, 
With the music of the cedar trees, they laid her down 

to rest ; — 
And there I, too, shall come to sleep, in the fullness of 

all time. 
And over us the stars will watch as night by night they 

climb ; 



Songs of the Susquehanna 179 

The birds o' heaven will sing to us, and at our heads 

the bees 
Will load their thighs with sweets, sometimes, and hum 

their melodies. 



But though I know that she nor lives nor walks this 

earthly sphere. 
The feeling yet obtrudes itself that she must still be 

here ; 
That she might yet return to me, with all her loving 

ways, 
And freshen up my mind with looks saved from those 

good old days ; 
That far away from city's dust and tedious, loud turmoil, 
We'll lead a life o' usefulness in peaceful, happy toil. 

And then, perhaps, if that was true, and we were side 

by side. 
And living in our cozy nest she loved so 'fore she died, 
The girls their lukewarm manners that have raised this 

talk to-day 
Might change into the loving ones of childhood, — who 

can say? 
And maybe, when they'd settled down, and lived near 

us somewhere. 
Their children' d prove the talk a lie that none for old 

folks care. 



i8o So?igs of the Susquehanna 

BACK ON THE FARM. 

PERHAPS I'm not the happiest man that ever 
walked this earth — 
For many sharers of life's joys there's been since Adam's 

birth— 
Perhaps mine's not the only case in which the soul has 

worn 
The fetters that the heart has forged in the well-spring 

of life's morn ; 
Perhaps you'll find among the musty records of the 

past 
Much stranger horoscopes than mine astrologers have 

cast. 

But never can you find, Fm sure, in breast of mortal 
clay, 

A fuller sense of gratefulness than my heart holds to- 
day ; 

And yet there might be really some — I won't say there 
are not — 

Who feel as deeply thankful as myself for what they've 
got; 

But leaving others to themselves and getting back to 
me, 

I'm certain that I'm happier than I ever thought I'd be. 

For when I lived off yonder in that wilderness of town. 
And I would once in quite a while get talking of this 
groun'. 



Songs of the Susquehanna i8i 

The girls would switch me off the track, and 'fore I'd 

catch my breath, 
They'd be on some newfangled ball, or how to circ'm- 

vent death — 
Just like them little sailing boats that hitches on the 

wind 
And leaves the lumbering steamboats a crawling on 

behind. 

Now there are sayings old folks had, which I was made 

to learn. 
Which ran, "Don't fly your kites too high," and 

'' Even a worm will turn." 
Well, somehow things kept getting worse, till one night 

Eveline said : 
''Say, pap, we're having company, now can't you go 

to bed?" 
But I — not used to being drove — ^just turned and looked 

at her, 
And then I said, ''To living there the graveyard I'd 

prefer. ' ' 

And afterwards I got to thinking, when I'd gone up 

stairs. 
And cooled my feelings down a bit, in one of them hair 

chairs, 
I'd go out west and have a look at the old place again ; 
For I allowed 'twould do me good to see the grass and 

grain. 



1 82 Songs of the Susquehanna 

And hear the cows a bellowing and feed the pigs their 

swill, 
And do the chores at milkin' time to the tune of the 

whippoorwill. 
So, much to their astonishment, I took the train next 

day, 
And landed here the following — a year ago next May. 
Well, since that time such curious things have entered in 

my lot, 
It seems some special providence upon my case has 

thought ; 
And though I'm not religion struck, nor yet salvation 

mad. 
When heaven favors me like that I can't help feeling 

glad. 

I can't tell how long I'd been back, but one night, 
rather late. 

There came a letter to my hand, bearing an even date ; 

Then, bending o'er the fireplace, with flaming eyes I 
read : — 

''Kind sir, I send you greetings. The wife you long 
thought dead, 

Is soon to leave this hospital where she has been con- 
fined — 

Your daughter bade us not to tell, but now they cannot 
mind. 

' ' You see that time you took so sick they feared you 
could not live, 



Songs of the Susquehanna 183 

She got to worrying herself so, her reason seemed to 

give, 
And so they brought her here to us, where she has since 

remained — 
Next Monday she will leave our roof^ with all her 

health regained." 
Well, maybe I was not struck dumb, and maybe, when 

she' d come, 
I didn't fold her in my arms and welcome her back 

home. 

The next I heard the bank had broke and I was ruined 
quite — 

They little guessed, who sent that word, how well I slept 
that night. 

And so I have them all once more beneath my humble 
roof. 

And though my daughters are no saints, they seldom 
need reproof: 

And with a grandchild coming on, my d' dining years 
to bless, 

It is so strange, my heart sometimes can't hide its hap- 
piness. 

A SUPPLICATION. 

OLORD, tho' I know not how long 
Or short my life may be, 
If I serve Thee with faith made strong, 
What matters that to me ? 



184 Songs of the Stisqiiclianna 

If in my heart I hoard not hate, 
Nor nurse the wrongs I bear, 

I know that I, or soon or late. 
Shall in Thy blessings share. 

And, knowing this, why need I pine 

For things I may not have ? 
Then grant me grace, than these of Thine, 

No meaner gifts to crave. 



TOO MUCH SPEED. 

ONE time, years and years ago. 
When the trains ran rather slow, 
Sooth, when railroads still were new. 
And the passengers but few, 
In the then uncultured West 
An old farmer, quaintly dressed, 
With his carpet-bag and cane. 
Climbed aboard a waiting train. 
Presently the train moved out 
On its long, diurnal route. 
And of course increased its speed 
Till it seemed to fly, indeed ; 
When the farmer, green as we 



Songs of the Susquehanna 185 

On an air-ship, now, would be, 
Staggered up and loudly roared, 
As he pulled the signal cord, 

'^ Hold on there, conductor, say ! 

Can't you stop a minute, hey? 

Don't you hear me? Can't you see? 

This is goin' tew fast fer me !" 

Yes, you laugh ! You think it strange 

Threescore years could things so change ; 

Yet 'tis not a lifetime since 

We would much surprise evince 

At the modern telephone, 

Or th' electric lights alone. 

Or those splendid dolls that talk 

Any tongue from Greek to Hawk, 

Saying naught of rowing shells. 

Or the mystic bicycles ; 

And do you know that sometimes, 

When the change-bells ring their chimes, 

I am half inclined to say, 

With the farmer of that day, 

' * Hold on there, conductor, say ! 

Can't you stop a minute, hey? 

Don't you hear me ? Can't you see ? 

This is going too fast for me ! ' ' 



1 86 Songs of the Susquehanna 

THE EAGLE. 

WHEN God first formed the birds, and gave them 
wings 

Wherewith to navigate the senseless air, 
And, like frail merchant ships, to win their way 

From point to point about the firmament. 
He made the eagle noblest of his kind, 

And so ordained him king. And that proud name 
He gained at fair creation's dawn he holds to-day ; 

And if thou'dst view him where he's most at home, 
Come with me to the wild Pacific slopes, 

Or Lake Superior's wave-indented shores, 
Or where the craggy rocks uplift their heads, 

Where sweeps the Susquehanna. Watch him trace 
His noble outlines 'gainst the azure sky. 

And cleave the air with that majestic mien 
Which marks him on the instant for a king : 

Behold him soaring round his lofty nest 
In ever-wid'ning circles, while his wings 

Scarce move to aid his going ; see him rise 
From airy height to height, then melt away 

In the thin ether, and then strain thine eye 
Till sight grows weak, and the tears come, to catch 

His next appearance from the clouds he loves, 
For there thou' It ever find him at his best. 

But if thou think' St to have him for a prize, 
And take thy gun along, be warned in time, 

For this imperial bird is not to be 



Songs of the Susquehanna 187 

Secured by such fell means ; for with an eye 

That seems to pierce the armor of the mind, 
He sweeps the landscape, and if he detects 

The slightest hostile action of a hand. 
That instant will he flap himself away 

To fuller safety in the realms of space, 
And mock thy weakness with a lusty scream. 

But if his eaglets or his mate thou harm'st, 
Beware of his swift vengeance ; then his ire, 

Roused to its highest pitch by thy mad act. 
Becomes a torrent which no dam can check ; 

And if he hurls him on thy helpless form, 
And tears thy flesh from off thy quiv'ring back. 

And leaves thee not till thou be torn to shreds. 
Expect no pity, but my just contempt. 

For having meddled with this first of birds. 
But if perforce thou should' st by snare or trap 

Become possessed of such a cov'ted prize 
And fetch him home, think' st thou that he would live 

T' endure captivity within a cage ? — 
I once knew such an eagle, caught hy chance, 

And prisoned in a pen like common fowl ; 
But though his captors brought him food each day 

And ministered to his material wants, 
He stubbornly refused to eat, nor broke 

His fast for one whole week, and finally. 
Worn to a shadow of his former self. 

Dropped down from hunger, or from wounded pride, 
And seemed about t' expire ; then the bars 

Which blocked his way to liberty were set 



1 88 So?igs of the SiisqjieJianna 

Aside, when, mark you ! such a change came o'er 

Hhn as, unseen, would hardly be believed ; 
His form, so gaunt from his imprisonment, 

Seemed to augment in size before their gaze \ 
His shriveled neck grew plump ; his lit orbs flashed. 

Then, duped no longer by his specious trick. 
They were about to re-imprison him, 

When, by an act of his imperious will. 
And with a stroke of his impetuous beak. 

He sent them reeling, set their plans at naught ; 
Then with a screech like angry bugle blast 

When steeded generals lead on the fray. 
He sprung aloft — he shot one backward glance, 

Then swiftly pinioned to his native skies. 
And him they neither saw nor heard of more ; 

Now men may oft seem slaves, and sometimes are. 
But eagles once are eagles to the end. 



THE THISTLE'S SONG TO THE ROSE. 

I LONG have thought to sing of thee, 
O fairest of earth's posies. 
For the sweetest flower in Nature's bower 

I hold the fragrant rose is ; 
But tho' full oft I've tuned my lyre 
To do this pleasing duty. 



Songs of the Sttsqiiehanna 189 

As many times I've spoiled my rhymes, 

Distracted by thy beauty. 
But now I've set about the task 

With sev'nfold strength of spirit, 
Tho' when 'tis thro' I fear 'twill show 

Far more of love than merit ; 
For when I aim to dress a thought 

Would make my song more striking, 
I fall to thinking of thee— and thinking 

Is far more to my liking. 

But should thine eyes these rhymes e' er meet. 

That from my soul come thronging, 
Discard the ditty, but pity, pity 

The heart for thee that's longing ; 
For rose, fair flower, the fault is thine. 

If I now need' St reproving. 
For such rare grace, such angel ways, 

Who could be blamed for loving ? 

And while I'm quick and thou remain'st 

As now, a virgin flower, 
I'll feign a joy, altho' thou'rt coy. 

And yieldst not to love's power ; — 
I'll cherish hope, nor languid mope, 

Tho' winds do rave and whistle ; 
Then, sometime, rose, perhaps — who knows?— 

Thou' It learn to love the thistle. 



190 Songs of the SusqueJiamia 

A DUBIOUS TREASURE. 

I READ in a paper, a short while ago, 
'Neath a sermon with love in its tone, 
That a new kind of cannon has been made that can 
throw 
A ball farther than any now known ; 
And down toward the close of the article, I 

Met a statement which killed my day's pleasure ; 
It was this : In the annals of war 'twill rank high. 
For, in truth, 'tis a veritable treasure. 

Now, the thought that rose uppermost, reading those 
lines. 
Was to ask what this treasure might mean ; 
Does it mean a protection to our hearthstones and 
vines ? 
That our sons from war-talk we may wean ? 
Does it mean that the foe, when bombarding our shores, 

Shall be sunk 'neath the burying waves? 
Or that, placed in his hands, for ourselves, when it 
roars, 
An accretion of sorrow and graves ? 

Does it mean that our ears shall be smitten again 
With the groans and the cries of the maimed ? 

That even at midnight the sough of God's rain 
By the sound of War's hail shall be tamed? 

Does it mean that our skies shall be stripped of their 
glow, 
And the light of our sun dimmed forever. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 191 

By making our sons to one another a foe ? 
Oh, let it be that again — never ! 

Last night when I'd dozed off to sleep, overtired, 

I dreamed a dream, would it were true ; 
I dreamed all the guns in the world had been fired, 

Then sunk in the ocean from view ; 
And that never again in the whole wide world, 

Until Time and its sands have fled, 
Should the flag as an emblem of war be unfurled. 

Or the blood of an enemy shed. 



TRUTH AND FALSEHOOD. 

UPON a quaking bog there limps a stranger knave. 
Hard driven by a townsman with a stave ; 
The marsh is Falsehood, the stranger's Humanity, 
Our Conscience's the townsman, and his stave must 
Truth be. 



WHEN THE SANDMAN COMES. 

WHEN the Sandman kind appears, 
With his kisses loving lips 
Shaking slumber o'er my dears 
From his drowsy finger-tips, 
Then 'tis put away your toys. 



192 Songs of the Susq7iehan7ia 

Lay your dollies 'neath their spreads, 
And without a bit of noise 

Climb the stairway to your beds. 

But, my darlings, ere you sleep, 

Let your prayers to Heaven arise, 
That He may forever keep 

Lurking dangers from your eyes ; 
Thank Him kindly for the days 

You're permitted to enjoy. 
Nor forget to ask His grace 

For each little girl and boy. 

Soon the time around shall come 

When far different games you'll play- 
Games more hard and wearisome 

Than the ones you know to-day ; 
Other eyes than those that love you 

Will inspect your actions then ; 
Other joys and loves will move you. 

In the bustling hives of men. 

Will the Sandman now whose fingers 

Lull you into calm repose. 
Be as welcome when he lingers 

In the future ? — ah, who knows ? 
But let's hope, whate'er may bind you, 

Whate'er griefs your heads may bow, 
That the Sandman still will find you 

Just as pure in heart as now. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 193 



SONNETS. 



THE COMBAT. 

In Imitation of Spenser. 

I SAW two knights meet on a flowery field, 
Watched by a third, who stood some way apart ; 
And straightway to do battle they did start. 
With looks which told till death they would not yield ; 
Both drew their weapons, until now concealed j 
Each aimed a blow at his opponent's heart, 
Which each one parried with the nicest art. 
Or caught upon his deftly managed shield ; 
Quick rained the blows ; each watched the other's 
eye; 
And for long time, so nicely matched were they, 
'Twas hard to tell which one would win, which fly — 

But finally the fairer knight gave way. 
The darker one stood crowned with victory : 

The conqueror was Night, the conquered Day ; 
But watcher Twilight stood no longer by. 

13 



194 Songs of the Siisquehanna 

TO THE FARTHEST STAR. 

O FARTHEST star ! O world unseen of men ! 
Thou planet set in motion by God's hand 
Before the fire of His wrath was fanned 
To punish man's transgression. Now, as then, 
Thy smallest part stirs not beyond His ken. 
Yet what know we, O utmost star, of thee ? 
What know we, save the fact that thou must be ! 
The strongest telescope is weakest when 
It seeketh to reveal thy modest worth ; 
But if its power should be so magnified 
That it could spy thee out, and body forth 
Th' unmeasurable miles which us divide, 
'Twould only prove thou'rt not so far from earth 
As Peace from me since Joy with Eva died. 



EUGENE FIELD. 



THE cradle of the past has rocked to sleep 
A galaxy of poets, whose sublime 
And world-encircling lays shall outlast time. 
Like footsteps hardened in the rock -bed deep. 
And cause the nations both to laugh and weep. 
But never yet hath bard in any clime 



Songs of the Siisquehamia 195 

Held up the glass to childhood in its prime 
So well as thou. Thy inspired songs shall keep 
Thy memory green, and sound thy sterling worth, 
Long after thy cold clay in dust shalt lie ; 
And, minstrel of the West, thy now stilled mirth 
Will find an echo in all hearts not dry 
With wasting business and the cares of earth — 
x\nd some thy songs will teach the way to die. 



THE POET'S MIND. 

THE poet's mind is like th' unquiet sea. 
Ever in motion, surging up and down. 
With tides of thought and hunger for renown, 
And a vague longing for what may not be. 
Which runs through all his being's immensity, 
Nor gives him rest in country or in town. 

And lets him bear life's cross without its crown. 
Or if, indeed, it brings him some degree 
Of fame, it straightway chains him to a wheel 
More cruel than Ixion's was of old ; 
And when he deems, poor, foolish man,^his zeal 
In his high mission has won him that which gold 
. Or silver cannot buy, he straight will feel 
The downward motion, and the rising cold. 



196 Songs of the Susquehanna 

GREAT SOULS. 

SOME souls there are that seem not of this earth, 
So rare are they, of such celestial hue ; 
Base slander cannot harm them ; envy's crew 
Strives all in vain to reach their modest worth, 

And penury but brings their virtues forth. 
But, ah, such souls are few, alas, too few ! 
For many seeming such are found untrue 
When proven in the balance ; noble birth 

Cannot ensure them, nor can training e'er ; 

They are the progeny of Heaven, sent by Him 
Who rules the world. Their lives are like a prayer, 

And they are brothers to the seraphim, 
Sent here awhile the garb of men to wear. 
To guide our steps o'er darksome ways and dim. 



HYPOCRISY. 



I SAW a man walk on the crowded street. 
As puffed with self-importance as a ball 
That grows along the roadside in the fall. 
Is with black dust. From well-groomed head to feet, 
So buttressed up was he with vain conceit, 
He wore the aspect of the armed Saul 



Songs of the Susquehanna 197 

Who sought the life of David. Let a shawl 
Worn by some honest washerwoman meet 
His speckless garments, such a scowl you'd see 
As scarce the sky wears on the sternest night : 
But when election time came round and he 
Was hoping for a place, the plainest wight 
I heard him hail with feigned cordiality ; 
And then I knew Hypocrisy by sight. 



SOME DAYS. 



THERE are some days which stand out from the rest 
Like solitary peaks above a range 
Of mountains, and their hues will never change ; 
They are the memory Islands of the Blest ! 
Whence all that comes is never good, but best ; 

With some they are the days whereon some strange 
Event took place : perchance some lonely grange, 
Or valley deep, or lofty mountain crest 
Was the theatre of their dear delights ; — 
But howsoe'er that be, all must admit 
That there are days whereof fond memory writes, 
In language such as Raphael might have writ : 

**They are the days when heart with brain unites, 
•To hold communion with the Infinite." 



198 Songs of the Susquehanna 

THE GREAT WRONG. 

I HEARD a sage once say, in whose wan face 
There dwelt a look of Christlike kindliness, 

' ' I hold it wrong to see so much distress 
In this dear world God meant for all his race, 
Yet no hand raised to level to its base 

The edifice of Wrong's presumptuousness — 

At least to make its walls by one stone less " — 
When one, in whose drawn features you could trace 

The record of a lifetime spent in want, 
Upspake : ^' O, sir," he said, "in lecture, song 

And sermon I have heard that self- same cant ; 
But who would crush the crescive roots of wrong, 

Must bare his arm and strike, nor let aught daunt : 
For deeds, not words, the down-trod nations long !" 



IN A TOWER. 



I STOOD at eve within a lofty tower 
That overlooked a mighty city ; far 
And near I saw Night's eyes, no tears to mar, 
Ope into seeing by God's wondrous power. 
And listened one uninterrupted hour 
To the tumultuous uproar that the war 
Of traffic waged, and felt the steady jar 
Insep'rable from sounds at strife. A shower 
Borne by a slowly passing cloud then came. 



Songs of the Susquehanna 199 

And like a besom o'er the city swept, 
As though to purge it of its sin and shame; 
And when the storm back to its cave had crept, 
I heard the bells day's natal hour proclaim; 
Then I descended, for the city slept. 



FAREWELL, OLD YEAR. 

FAREWELL, Old Year ! Old Year, farewell ! 
Though dear thou art unto my heart. 
Stern fate has tolled thy passing bell, 
And we forevermore must part. 

Thy time has come ! Thy voice is dumb ! 

And flowers that once bedecked thy brow. 
Leafless and scentless, cold and numb. 

Are lying 'neath the snowdrifts now. 

The friends that owned thee in thy youth 

The best of all that yet has been. 
Now wish thee gone, and long, in sooth. 

To bring thy new successor in. 

So since 'tis fated thou must go 

With dark oblivion's train to dwell. 

Oh, crowned with juniper and snow. 

Farewell, Old Year ! Old Year, farewell ! 



200 So7igs of the Siisqiiehaitiia 

THE SECRET. 

A POET once sat in the gloom with his dreams, 
And sifted and winnowed the diverse rich themes 
That thronged through his being's portal ; 
And wondered which one of that fugitive group, 
If by him selected, would cause Fame to stoop, 
And render his name immortal. 

And while he was pondering, thither there came 
An angel, bright pinioned, who whispered: ''For 
shame ! 

Come forth from your gloomy tower. ' ' 
The poet obeyed, and the sweet-scented air 
His songs filled with perfume, so rich and so rare, 

His fame was assured from that hour. 

And now all ye rhymesters, at random who write, 
Who grope in obscurity's fathomless night, 

And wonder with much amazement, 
Why Poesy your invitations decline. 
Pay heed to this lesson, your soul's light let shine. 

Then soon she will enter your casement. 



THE POET'S FAREWELL TO HIS 
THOUGHTS. 



c 



OME hither, my darlings, 
My heart's precious starlings. 
And soothe me a spell ; 



Songs of the Susquehanna 201 

For soon I must lose ye — 

That oft did amuse me — 

And bid ye farewell. 

Then to my heart, babies, 
My loved-ones, my May bees, 

One moment come home : 
For in other gardens, 
With less loving wardens, 

'Tis fated ye' 11 roam. 

The thought we must sever, 
Must soon part forever. 

It cuts like a sword \ 
For O, ye are dearer. 
Fond burdens and nearer 

Than all of life's hoard. 

There, now I have nursed ye, 
Have dressed and immersed ye, 

The last words we'll say ; 
We'll bid farewell, babies. 
My fairies, my May bees. 

Away, then away ! 

But ere we are parted. 
And ye are new-started, 

I'll hold ye once more ; 
I'll fondly address ye, 
And soothe and caress ye. 

And look ye all o'er. 



202 Songs of the Susquehanna 

Go now your way brightly, 
And speak ye politely 

On land or the deep ; 
And bear yourselves mildly, 
Though blow the wind wildly, 

Or softly doth sleep. 

And when ye are weary 
With ways that are dreary. 

And hunger for rest, 
Then think of your parent, 
That spent his life's current, 

To have ye well dressed. 

But if ye are hidden. 
Or sullenly bidden 

To vacate your seat ; 
Return to this cottage, 
And spend your life dotage 

In peacefulness sweet. 

Now take your way brightly. 
Unfold your wings lightly, 

And try them a spell ; 
Now lowly and slowly, 
With humbleness go ye, 

And now — fare ye well ! 



'■^■^1^5^^ 



^ M1. 6 1901 




